3 Crossroads of Fate
by EllieMP
Summary: This is the 3rd episode from my 'The Path of the Tiger and the Dragon' series. it's set 2 years later, exactly where the prologue of ep. 1 left. Plagued by memories back home Peter goes to help one of his kids and inevitably things go wrong. Meanwhile back at 101st the gang is dealing with the usual mess, only now they can count on a new chief, and SHE is not be meddled with...
1. PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

Sloanville, December 9, 1998

_Unlike San Francisco, a more northern Sloanville had not been spared the frosty goodness typical for this time of year, and when Peter Caine returned home the grey city landscape was lying hidden under a clean, white blanket and sub-zero temperatures._

_It's common that most people get moody, affected by the short days and rare sunlight, but Peter's grave expression had nothing to do with it; he couldn't care less about the weather. He only took note of the altered panorama and sunken back into his thoughts entered the building he had been calling home for the last year and a half, the Academy._

_His most recent post card arrived only three days before him, consequently leaving Master Khan with very little time to prepare. He had lots of news but the dose had been justly divided – he was in charge of the China Town affairs, Kermit was to take care of the material side. Relieved that he no longer had to be the sole responsible for the huge Chinatown and 30 kids from the street on top of that, the senior Shaolin was genuinely happy when Peter's powerful chi filled the ground floor room. The two brothers in order greeted cordially; for his old friend's sake Peter even smiled. _

_The young Master took his luggage, a travelling bag and a bag-pack, and left it behind the little Dao garden, and immediately went to check the pack of practice weapons he had personally shipped from China. He discussed briefly with Master Khan what was to be done with them and just then Jake Hudson appeared. His face beamed with enthusiasm when he saw Peter._

_'__Pete, you're back! Hey…'_

_'__Jake… How are you doin' ?' he patted Jake on the shoulder, still retaining his sombre expression. Jake couldn't help but feel intimidated. _

_Peter went to the other end of the room where Master Khan showed him a leak that needed urgent repair. The young Master only looked at Jake once and generally his attitude was as if the younger man had always been there._

_Checking on the stained wall and without turning, Peter spoke._

_'__Are you settled OK, Jake?'_

_'__Yes, everything's fine.'_

_'__He's been assisting with the classes; I put him in charge of the self-defence class on Thursday…'_

_'__Good, that's good,' nodded Peter._

_'__We had to make small shift to the schedule. I made a draft for a new schedule now that you've returned.'_

_Peter smiled._

_'__The guys will be ecstatic to have you back. Just check it…'_

_'__It's OK, Mike, whatever you've done should be fine,' said Peter calmly. Impressed, Master Kahn preferred not to say anything else._

_In that moment the Ancient appeared from the other end of the room, the area behind the columns that were dividing the place in two equal halves. Silent, Peter gave him a deadly look, no words were spoken. The old man bowed. Jake had no idea why Peter treated the sweet, old man like that. Master Khan only shook head. _

_Like the wind his young student passed Lo Si and headed for the corner where he had left his luggage._

_'__Kermit was looking for you,' said Khan in a louder voice, desperately trying to avoid the disaster._

_'__If he calls again I'll be at the Centre.'_

_'__OK…'_

_'__Have you been at the Centre, Jake?' asked Peter while going through the depths of his bag._

_'__Yes, I started volunteering there and….'_

_'__Great.' Annoyed Peter simply grabbed the whole bag-pack and with it on his shoulder headed for the door. 'Mike… I… I'll resume classes in a day or two.'_

_'__Sure, of course, no prob.'_

_Peter left. Not considering the bewildered men he left behind, he headed for the Youth Centre he had created several months after he took the brands. On the way there he had to stop and greet every adult citizen of Chinatown he met; people were actually coming specially to see him. The news that Young Master Caine had returned spread with the speed of light._

_The old fire station was packed. At the entrance Ariel and Cheryl practically smothered the young priest with hugs. The whole welcome took almost an hour. No two straight sentences were spoken for a long time; instead there were tears and sobs, smiles, giggles, and hip-hip-hoorays. Young Rick Harding, the first kid Peter ever helped, had even made a diary with every event Peter needed to know about; it was an almost entirely filled A4 notepad. _

_The former cop slowly started recollecting all the problems he left behind when he journeyed to Mexico six months ago. He reproached himself for not asking Master Khan about the rent issue, but he remembered to ask Cheryl and all he got in return was a 'We're fine' sort of thing. In fact, both places that Peter Caine was in charge of, the Academy and the Centre, had had very good vibes to them so he never felt the need to worry. Just when he wondered what had happened in his absence, a black-clad figure appeared at the entrance._

_Anxious, Peter freed himself from his kids' loud company. Kermit had left his hair grow again and as a whole family life seemed to agree very well with him. To the ex-mercenary it seemed that Peter had aged 10 years. Not so physically, but the shorter hair, revealing sombre face with an empty look, meant that the last months had not been easy for his young friend. _

_No words were necessary, no greetings were exchanged. Peter felt Kermit's anguish like it was his own. _

_Kermit took his glasses off._

_'__It's Paul.'_

_Automatically Peter stretched for his bag and on his way out he only managed to warn Cheryl that he'll be at the hospital. Back in June one father had told him off, but right now there was another one who needed him._

**XXX**

_France, June 6, 1998_

The beauty of the castles by the Loire was universally acknowledged. For one to see their melancholic-romantic situation and not even notice it, one needed to have some serious issues.

One such man was Kwai Chang Caine. He, the one who, according to his son, always had time to stop and smell the roses, was not the least taken by the romance in the air. Right now he was anxious, headed for an inn in a secluded village. It was one of those happy, little places, lucky to be close to a major touristic spot and even luckier not to be included in the tour guide.

The inn was not particularly full, yet the man at the reception, a chubby, bold monsieur, was anything but happy when he saw the stranger.

'Bon jour,' greeted Caine in French without accent.

'Bon jour.'

'I am passing from here… Do you have any spare rooms?'

'We have many spare rooms.'

'Excuse me, I am not using the right words… Is your inn very full these days?'

'Not really. Why?'

'I… am looking for someone… a friend.'

'I can't reveal anything about my guests. Company policy, you see.'

'Yes, I understand. Yet, I was told that this woman… this one, on the picture… has been here. Can you tell me when…?'

'Wait, I need my glasses… Hm… I don't know this woman.'

'Are you certain?'

'Of course I am certain! I'm running this place 25 years already. I may not be young but I am still with my wits! I've never seen this woman…. What is your name again?'

'Thank you, monsieur. That would be all.'

Annoyed Monsieur Boinne, manager and owner of _The Three Swans_, sneered while his eyes followed the funny dressed stranger. Something about this man made him stand out greatly from the others…

Having made certain that the stranger was on his way, Monsieur Boinne picked the phone.

'Yes… Put me through to Mrs DuJeanne, another one just came.'

**XXXXX**


	2. First Steps

First Steps

_Sloanville, February 2, 1999_

In his early thirties, on a new job, and without a relationship, life was not easy for Detective Brian Morris. Once known as 'one of NYPD's toughest', the 31-year-old found himself starting anew in a smaller city and God, in a much smaller precinct. And even 101st's solid reputation as a preferred partner for the FBI and Interpol didn't make the transition feel any better. And China Town, can you imagine? From Bronx to Chinamen, what a decline!

As if that was not enough, Morris made the mistake to tour the neighbourhood before checking in for his first day. In less than quarter of an hour he spotted at least three trespassers and then found himself in the middle of a neighbourly dispute involving a drunken teenage girl, a massive and very aggressive man, and two hysterical middle-aged women. Oh, and some… smell.

Since none of them paid any attention to him and his shouting, or to his badge, he left outraged, trying to collect some background information about the freak show he had been just involved in.

Only few streets away, in front of a big and very Chinese-looking building, Morris spotted the most grotesque sight one could come across at 8:30 on a bitter, though sunny, winter morning.

There was the police car, all right, and two uniforms; so far so good. They were blissfully enjoying their early portion of coffee and doughnuts in the company of an oddball in a black coat. He looked like he was coming straight out of the latest James Bond movie, only that he wore green shades. The group was completed by a… Buddhist monk?! He was a tall, Caucasian young man, in a saffron coloured robe, who was casually leaning leg on one of the police car's tires while… munching a doughnut…

No, no, that was just too much for 8:30 in the morning…

'Morning, fellas,' greeted Morris, trying to hide his annoyance as best as he could.

'Morning,' greeted one of the uniforms.

'Det. Brian Morris, 101st,' he said, proudly waving the badge he had received during the rendezvous with the Commissioner yesterday. He was still coming to terms with the police force of a one-million city being put in the hands of a woman. Jeez…

'Oh, you the new guy?' asked the other uniform.

'Yeah, starting today.'

The priest lifted his half-eaten doughnut in a silent cheer, not paying any attention to the powder sugar that was gently decorating his robe. The weirdo with the green glasses took a sip from his coffee and didn't as much as stir.

'Listen… I think I may need some backup.'

'You think?' wondered the first uniform. His name was Mac Wattson.

'Yeah… There's this big row going on two streets from here. There's this drunken teenager, an attempted robbery, and at least, _at least_ one stoned guy.'

'So?'

The apparent apathy outraged Morris further.

'Seriously, none of the neighbours wanted to cooperate, nobody interfered… I couldn't get even their names! I mean… what's with the Chinese?' raised voice the detective.

By some invisible command the group of three all looked at the saffron-clad man.

'Anything to worry about?' finally spoke the spy-like guy.

'It's the Laos, mother's manic depressive,' smacked the priest while speaking with full mouth. 'Must be their morning workout; I'll check them.'

'Cool,' said the green-shaded man and sipped coffee.

'Uhm… excuse me, I'm from the police.'

'Good for you,' said the mysterious man.

'Now, mister, such language can get you in jail. I've been dealing with trespassers all morning and no one has been arrested yet.' Then he turned towards the patrol. 'Won't you do something?'

'He'll take care of them,' said innocently the second uniform, name was John Show.

The priest shrugged.

'What are you gonna' do?' snapped Morris with a heavy New York accent.

'I'll talk.'

'Yeah, that's how it works, talk. No wonder this place is such a mess, 'cause police ain't do nothing 'n' people… talk.'

'You should try it, too, you know…. Talking I mean.'

'Listen to me…. Father… I'm a cop, you won' teach me how to do my job; you just go do your… priestly stuff, all right?'

'I beg you a pardon… what do I know about police work…,' humbly spoke the monk and even bowed. The sneaky look in his eyes and the subtle, mocking grin made the Detective's teeth itch, not to mention the uniforms' giggle. He couldn't be an undercover, right? It would be stupid to stand in plain sight in the centre of Chinatown… Though from what he saw until now, nothing would surprise him.

The Detective hummed and looked around, still not certain what he should do next.

'I'd better go see what's going on,' said the priest, shaking the powder sugar off his robe.

'All right, catch you later,' said Show and headed for the car.

'Take care, man,' greeted Wattson and joined his colleague. 'And Morris, good luck on the new job,' cordially wished the cop, then added in a lower voice, 'God knows you'll need it.'

Annoyed that he had to beg backup from a weird priest, Morris couldn't hide his disgust. He made few steps away and only saw how the silent man exchanged words withtheh robed one.

'So, you're leaving soon?'

'Once I'm done with the Lao family, yeah. I can't postpone it any longer; Mel hasn't called in two weeks, I worry.'

'How long, two-three days?'

'If it's serious could be more. …Why?'

'I… I had to talk to you about something…'

'Is it urgent?'

'N-no… ish… It's OK, we'll talk when you come back. '

'You sure?'

'Yeah, yeah, go, concentrate on your work. I'm busy now, anyway; going to pick my new Chief of Detectives. And… if you need any help…'

'…I know where to call,' he said and with a soft smile patted friendly the man with the glasses. 'Good luck with the new Chief.'

'Yeah…'

The man finished his coffee while completely motionless observed Morris and the priest leave. The Detective had to admit that this guy gave him the creeps; he dearly hoped they wouldn't meet often.

Few minutes later they arrived at the place of the row, a small shoe store with a cracked vitrine. The row was now even louder, and one of the women was trying to slap the teenager. The small crowd that had gathered saw the duo and immediately made way; Morris could swear some of them actually bowed.

First, of course, the young detective assumed that the badge and holstered gun finally did their job, but then with horror he realised the crowd hadn't even noticed him; they were bowing to the priest.

That became evident when the young man with the robe approached the loud group and the crowd practically trampled Morris, all trying to come closer and listen. Annoyed he pushed few of them and left the closing circle.

Then the cop observed a scene that brought memories from his school years, when a teacher or worse, the principal, would come and break a fight at the school yard. For, the little Chinese people all froze and looked ashamed only at the sight of the priest; the guy didn't even need to speak. What he said afterwards was a mystery, it was in Chinese, and as it sounded to Morris, Chinese without an accent.

In this picture the Chinatown folk were the students. The priest was undoubtedly the principal.

xxxxx

It was early February and the random winter cold hadn't missed even the officers from 101st. Despite her 37.5, Jody Powell somehow dragged herself to work, bored of lame morning shows and litres of too-cold tea and too-hot chicken soup. Even the blue sky and the sunshine didn't make her smile.

Inside the warm, little building the morning buzz was a bit more organised than usual. Everyone was seeing to their duties with uncommon zeal which, she spotted immediately, was by all means due to the presence of the Police Commissioner, and their former Captain, Karen Simms.

Simms was in the Captain's office, nervously checking through his papers. Jody didn't invest too much time spying on her ex-captain. She greeted TJ and Skalany and sat behind her desk, the file of the Rockston double murder being a most uninviting sight. Bored, Powel leaned on the chair, taking few minutes to inspect her surroundings.

There was Broderick, the faithful guard of the doors to their little chaos. Next to her was standing Blake, having some coffee then heading for his new office, the same that once used to be Kermit's. Her Chief of Detectives could be spotted, too, collecting the last remaining items from his office.

The official version for Strenlich's surprise 'vacation' was 'sorting out personal matters'. They were so 'personal' that even his live-in girlfriend knew nothing about them.

The weirdest thing was that all of this, Simms's promotion and everything else, happened without Peter's knowledge. He never really stopped being one of the gang; he had been there to celebrate each of his former colleagues' promotions, retirements, or birthdays, but the surprise trip to China lasted so long that he actually missed half of last year.

…Easy, Jody, heading for dangerous waters again…

Powel shook head and absently accepted a cup of coffee from Bobby, one of the latest additions to their team. She observed Mary Margaret heading with a cup to Broderick, while Strenlich was getting angry after tasting a sip of the same muddy, dark-brown drink that marked the start of each day here at 101st. Jody was not concentrated, a normal reaction from any thoughts about Peter Caine that managed to sneak in her usually well-ordered mind. Hence only now she remembered to thank Callahan for the coffee and finally set to work on her file.

X

Robert Callahan was a good cop. Known as _Bobby_ or _Rob_ amongst friends, he got transferred from 92nd to the precinct of his choice. But as it usually happens in life, things don't always turn the way they should.

Bobby Callahan was a good cop, and a good man. He had been so all his life, much to the pleasure of his proud parents and everyone fortunate to have worked with him. He was always doing the right thing, in the right way, following the rules. Rob was a decent detective, decent shooter, and generally a decent man. But there is nothing special about _decent_. And since he didn't know what else to do but being decent, he paid the price, as it usually happened with decent people.

When his application for transfer, submitted 3 months before, was finally taken into consideration, he was fortunate enough to be headed for the precinct he had pointed as his first choice. Circumstances, however, had turned quite _un_fortunate, and as a consequence Detective 1st Grade Robert Callahan found himself being transferred to the 101st as the immediate replacement of Detective 2nd Grade Peter Caine.

Callahan accepted the transfer with mixed feelings; the position at the infamous 1-0-1 had suddenly ceased to be so appealing. He had wanted to try his luck at that precinct for a long time, and when it finally happened he didn't know if he was blessed or cursed.

As soon as the news came, almost unconsciously the Detective changed his daily routine. He started spending every day an hour or even two at the shooting range; same amount of time at the fitness, and he even signed for jiu jitsu classes. Parallel to that, neglecting his own cases, he diligently studied all of Peter's cases he could set his hands on. It struck him that with the advancement if his career Caine had been constantly given the most twisted and complicated crimes. More striking was that he had solved them, too; he solved them all.

All preparation considered, Bob Callahan didn't feel a change. He was still a decent cop and a decent man. And being decent is not enough, not if you are sent to watch over the law and order in Metropolis after Superman has left. Callahan put the blue suit and the red cape, but those are not enough to turn the humble Clark Kent into super-hero; they are merely sufficient to make him look like a moron in a blue suit and red cape.

X

A cup of warm coffee found its place between the messy papers on Rob's desk. He set to revise the sad condition of his current case. Disheartened by the already third day without new information he knocked fingers on the metallic surface. Few small scratches, left from the desk's previous occupier, attracted his attention. They looked like digits, phone number, perhaps. Nah, they couldn't be his, he took good care of his belongings.

Next month it was going to be 2 years exactly since his arrival here; he remembered it vividly.

Bobby had hoped to remain fairly unnoticed and, unfortunately, he did. Only on his first day did he manage to be the centre of attention. As he set foot in the building for the first time, Chief Strenlich showed him around and took him to his new desk… Peter Caine's desk… Callahan had felt all eyes in the squad-room following every move he made. When the box with his stuff touched the empty desk's surface he felt like he was performing something sacrilegious.

As the time went by Callahan realised his fears of too much attention had been unjustified. After all, being decent doesn't get you attention and being decent doesn't make you a great cop and… Peter Caine had been nothing less than great. No, wearing blue suit and red cape doesn't make you Superman, nor does sitting on his desk for that matter.

X

Jody Powell never noticed any of this; to her Bob Callahan was simply a new colleague, good partner, and fun company.

But not at first. Oh, no, during the first few days she hated Callahan: for sitting in _his_ chair, for being behind _his_ desk, for working _his_ shifts... She hated him for being there, or rather for _not_ being, because he was not Pete, by no fault of his own, of course, but he was not even close. She hated him for that. For a short time Bobby Callahan was responsible for Peter's leaving, for Peter not coming at DeLancey's as often, and generally for everything bad that happened in the world.

But those feelings lasted only a while, because Bobby was a decent man, and you can't be mad at decent people for long.

Jody lifted head to thank Skalany for the refill and watched her heading for the front desk to brighten Broderick's day, too. He was the same, Skalany was the same, Blake, he was the same, too. Many things were the same, but then, nothing was as it used to be.

Over the past two years Mary Margaret and Jody had become even closer, consequence of them sharing something very special in common, the _Caine_ link. For, both ladies had learned first-hand that the Caine men could break hearts with the same ease they broke bricks.

Though in Mary Margaret's case it was not the 'classic' heartbreak, since nothing 'real' other than a kiss ever actually happened, a kiss and a half-spoken four-year flirt at the background. But in Jody's case it was all _very_ real. Not even Skalany knew the details of what really went on between her and Peter, but at the end of it Jody was a mess.

Powell never shared details about it, yet the two lonely women understood each other. A smile, a look, a half-spoken sentence – they understood. They tried to move on, both with questionable success. Skalany had only short flirts, nothing ever turned serious, while Jody found 'the one' several times and several times ended up alone and miserable. Unconsciously both women were looking for the perfect men, i.e. better than the Caines, and as a result Mary Margaret turned her back on a few great opportunities, while Jody never really spotted the _one_ great opportunity, that was there, right under her nose.

X

Occupied with memories the detectives vaguely spotted the subtle change in the air. Skalany and Broderick saw them first, the Captain and their new Chief.

_… __holding his coat in one hand, engaged in a lively conversation with a tall, young woman. As he walked in, he gallantly stepped aside, wide smile on his face, and made way for the lady._

_'__Welcome to 101st precinct, lieutenant Jahn!'_

'It's a pleasure, Captain Griffin!'

XXX


	3. The Road Ahead

The Road Ahead

It was shortly past rush hour, and the traffic was bearable. Back in 'civil' clothes Peter was concentrating on the road and his task. Two years later and he could manage nearly a whole drive without noticing the trespassers – it made him feel almost normal.

Riverton was two-hour drive from Sloanville; amidst winter – almost three. Not too far, yet not close, either, which left the young priest with too much time to think. Since his return he had been even more obsessed about his schedule – with barely 4-5 hours of sleep and food on the go, he _really_ made it impossible for his thoughts to stray to… _her_ …or worse – to France. The most he allowed himself were thoughts of his foster family, whom he was more than ever eager to take care of.

Very few of Peter's kids ended up in foster care. He made sure that whatever family his wards had would stick together and offer them as normal and uneventful childhood as possible. His current drive to Riverton was an urgent one. He couldn't postpone it because the ten-year old Melissa Winch had been fostered there. She had to, after her grand-mother, only relative and legal guardian, died of stroke in late December. The girl had not called Peter for 17 days, way more than what they had agreed, and every fibre of his body was telling him something was wrong.

This, and the condition of his own life, contributed to the young master's serious eyes. Ever since his comeback he had face of stone and in two months Chinatown had come up with tens of versions of what had caused this condition. Peter only wondered whether the curious community would have allowed itself such freedom of imagination if it was his father and not him. For his own sake he left that question unanswered.

Annoyed for not driving fast enough Peter had to stop at the lights of some small town right outside Sloanville. The so uncommon for a Shaolin nervousness made him check something hanging around his neck; it appeared there shortly after his return in December and nobody, not even Master Khan, knew where it was from.

Inevitably his thoughts travelled to that fateful December two months ago. He thought of the Blaisdells, the only proper family he ever had. Before leaving he had paid one of his regular visits like a devoted son should, completely disregarding the fact that those visits were now more frequent than even when Paul was still the only father he had.

Paul…

The car moved on and so did Peter's memories. It took him back to the day he returned, and as usual the memory invaded his heart along with that little voice whispering '_Was there any point?'_' Then he'd reproach himself with a '_Of course there was, you dope'_, and the moment of self-pity would be over for a few more hours, a day tops.

Nervously Peter made sure, again, that the pendant around his neck was still there and kissed it. A deep sigh indicated that there was no avoiding the flashback this time.

X

December 9, 1998

_…__. Frantically the two men rushed in the car and left. Stuck in traffic two minutes later, Kermit was still hesitating if he should do it, when Peter solved the moral dilemma himself. A steady hand reached and turned the siren on; they were at County General four minutes later._

_'__This is where you talk,' spoke Peter, blankly staring ahead, with a voice that made the snow outside look warm._

_'__When Paul returned, which was earlier than he had intended… there was a reason.'_

_'__His family?'_

_'__His cancer.'_

_Peter was still; only the apples of his eyes had doubled their size._

_'__How long have you known?'_

_'__I learned the day we left. He made me swear not to tell you… or Annie…'_

_No response came from the younger man. He was observing a little boy playing with a small dog and for a second he genuinely wanted to be in that boy's place._

_'__Has it progressed so fast?'_

_'__No, but it can't be moved either. Peter, he has brain tumour.'_

_Peter felt a new sensation in his body; this time it was the urge to start banging his head on the nearest hard surface. Tumour! All those months Paul fooled him with migraine talk and he believed him. _

_No wonder his father was ashamed of him._

_'__You have every right to be angry.'_

_'__It's not your fault, Kermit.'_

_Slightly surprised the older man made few quick moves to check on Peter. The kid not only looked different, he sounded different. _

_At first Kermit hadn't been terribly enthusiastic when Peter called to let him know he was going to spend some time at the temple where he had delivered safe and sound Sun Wei's wife. But it was turning out to be a good idea after all. Peter was not only calmer than ever, he demonstrated control of the emotions that only one other Caine had done before him._

_As for Paul Blaisdell, whatever his condition, his health had mysteriously deteriorated two days ago and prognosis was that his wife would serve one plate less at the Christmas table._

_Kermit's trouble to find Peter also reminded the young priest that it was time to invest in a new cell phone…_

**_X_**

_Walking down the long corridors smelling of anti-bacterial cleaner was something that later Peter barely remembered. The first thing he remembered was the room and the small crowd outside; Paul's brother, Simon, was there, a sign that things were not going well. Simon was talking to Todd, Caroline's for-the-time-being husband. Next thing was Kelly. The youngest Blaisdell, who had suddenly turned into this gorgeous young woman, jumped off her seat and with teary face ran to Peter._

_'__Where have you been!' she screamed and started hitting his chest. 'He's dying!' she cried and kept hitting while Peter just closed eyes and left her do whatever she wanted. _

_'__Where were you?' cried Kelly at last and finally succumbed to her grief, exhaustedly hiding face in Peter's arms. He wanted to say he was sorry but it was not the time; his sister knew he was._

_Finally making it to the room, Peter found a pale, weak man, the same who pulled him out of the gutter and gave him new life 20 years ago. Annie was sitting on the other side of the bed, her hands clutching Paul's dry wrist as if that would stop him from leaving her. _

_Paul was delirious. He was mumbling gibberish when he saw the young man by his side._

_'__Paul?' Annie stirred. 'Honey?'_

_'__It's me, Mom. Hey…'_

_Peter sat and bravely suppressing his tears kissed and caressed the wrinkled forehead._

_'__Paul? Paul, it's me, Peter, I'm back.'_

_'__Peter? Son, is that really you?'_

_Peter grabbed the trembling hand._

_'__It's me… Dad, it's me, I'm here, I'm back.'_

_Tears ran down the well-aged face. Paul cupped the young face and attempted to kiss it. Peter leaned and rested head on his foster-father's shoulder._

_'__God, it's really you!' Paul smiled. 'And I thought I was hallucinating again.'_

_'__No, no, I'm really here, Paul… Dad, I'm here. …Forgive me.'_

_'__For what?'_

_'__For not being here earlier.'_

_'__You were doing your... job, you were… helping,' said Paul with a hoarse voice._

_Paul was holding Peter's hand tightly and repeated perpetually, 'You're here, son... You're back…'_

_'__Mom?'_

_Annie didn't respond._

_'__Mom, it's OK, I'm here now,' he said and stretched hand to cup Annie's. She pulled nervously._

_'__So what? What difference does it make? There's nothing you or any of us can do.'_

_Annie had never been so cross with her son. Peter came to the horrible conclusion that despite his attempts, after taking the brands an invisible wall had grown between him and his 'normal' family, and only now this wall got to take shape and matter._

_Silently he removed his hand and concentrated on Paul. Caroline had nested next to her mother while Kelly still would not dare come in. Kermit was next to her at the door, stoically hiding behind his green shades. Peter had never been more jealous of the pair of plastic accessories that so successfully managed to conceal the ex-mercenary's emotions._

_Paul's steel-blue eyes were wide open, firmly fixated on the young man next to him; Peter caressed him. In that moment the young Shaolin didn't need to turn to know that another person entered the room._

_'__Peter… Welcome back.'_

_'__Thank you, Dr Saburin.' After few seconds silence he continued. 'What's the verdict?'_

_'__We're losing him very quickly…' Annie sobbed. 'There's nothing else we can do but reduce his pain.'_

_Peter granted the woman who had saved his own life more than once a desperate look, silently apologising for not being more courteous. _

_'__Where is the tumour?' The big hazel eyes returned to Paul._

_'__Inside the brain. The position is very delicate and that makes it inoperable.'_

_'__Has it progressed that fast?'_

_'__Peter, leave it,' insisted Caroline._

_'__That's the problem, it doesn't seem to be the tumour. Yet… we've been unable to find any other cause of his condition. …I'm sorry.'_

_Helplessly at first Peter slid hand down Paul's chest. This was when his shaken chi finally detected it._

_Heat. Everywhere…._

_Down the neck, the torso, the legs… Paul's life force had been totally affected, it was not just the head._

_Peter livened up. He stood to his feet and began working with both hands, carefully exploring Paul's chi, sliding hands up and down the body without touching it._

_'__What are you doing?' asked Carol in a slightly annoyed manner. She was holding Annie and until that point had wisely preferred to keep distance from her brother._

_'__It's everywhere…'_

_'__What?!'_

_'__Whatever is killing him… it's all… over the body… not just the head…'_

_'__Mr Caine…'_

_Dr Sabourin would gladly hear Caine's opinion on any of her cases, but Peter was not __**that**__ Caine._

_Meanwhile Annie interfered, this time with significantly softer voice._

_'__Let it go, honey, there's nothing we can do,' she said and cupped her son's hand. Peter kissed hers and gently put it away._

_'__If it's his brain, then why does his whole body feel… wrong?'_

_'__Peter, what are you talking about?' asked Annie but this time Dr Sabourin understood. Before she even managed to speak a new voice filled the room._

_'__What's this, what's the kid talking about? He feels nothing…'_

_The voice's owner resented Peter only a bit more than he resented Paul. His name was Simon Blaisdell, Paul's younger brother._

_Trained in patience and stoicism, Peter suppressed the unpleasant memories from his encounters with Simon, together with the overwhelming desire to punch him, and spoke as calmly as humanly possible._

_'__I __**can**__ feel… The same way I can feel the nurse's painful cramps…' Nurse Jones blushed. '…or Dr Sabourin's pesky tooth… or my mother's inflamated sinuses… Mom, you have to do something about this, seriously.'_

_Peter's sad eyes met Paul's amazed gaze._

_'__She's obstinate like you.'_

_Annie was speechless, so was everybody in the room. Peter felt guilty. He had tried so hard to act 'normally' while being with his 'normal' family. Just like when he was a boy who badly wanted to fit in, the newly branded priest had suppressed with all his power the new skills and knowledge that set him apart from the 'hot shot' cop everybody knew. Now this was no longer possible. _

_Peter Caine, a Shaolin priest, put on the table all he had, and he had never been further away from his family than in that moment. _

_Paul mumbled._

_'__Is it… true? Is your… sinusitis… back?'_

_Annie sounded barely audible._

_'__How did you know?'_

_'__I felt it,' said Peter and faced the doctor again, 'as I feel that my father is dying of something that's not in his head. It's… everywhere…'_

_'__Everywhere?'_

_'__Yeah, like… like the blood, the bones…' Peter froze._

_'__The blood!'_

_X_

The loud interaction between Peter's car and the icy road brought the priest out of his flashback. Skilfully he manoeuvred back to the lane. His hand nervously checked the pendant round his neck while his brain was sending signals that Riverton was nearly there.

xxxxx

Fuming under the discomfort of the heavy box which inevitably made the squad room appear stuffier than it was, Chief Strenlich left his office. The seriousness of his decision had just hit him, the empty office laughing at him, and the former marine was only looking for a victim to unleash his frustration on.

The planned assault was postponed, however, as soon as the trained eye noticed the Captain and his stunning companion. The box landed almost immediately on the nearest available desk, Chin's in this case.

'She's gorgeous, isn't she?' stated the younger man dreamily.

'Aha…' barely uttered Strenlich and headed for the door, completely oblivious to the scrutinising look of his girlfriend.

The beautiful and way-too-young woman standing next to the Captain was already heading Kelly Blake's _Most Hated_ list.

Strenlich was refusing to believe it. He came closer and observed how the lady was introduced to Broderick and Skalany, then to Jody and Callahan, to T.J.

The Commissioner sneaked out of the Captain's office and cordially hugged the pretty woman, very much as if they were old friends.

The Chief had researched his temp in depth. He knew of her skill and accomplishments, and he felt nothing but respect for a young woman who seemed to have earned more medals than he had himself. He knew, of course, that she was young, though he expected a woman before her 40s, not a goddess who was not in her 30s yet.

'And… that must be Chief Strenlich,' said the stunner and proudly looked at the Chief, her big, black eyes leaving him breathless.

'Pleasure to meet you at last, Lieutenant.'

They shook hands.

'Police lieutenant Frank Strenlich, at your service,' almost sang the Chief and mildly bowed. Jody was amazed, the Captain – amused, while the Commissioner was recollecting her own first meeting with Strenlich.

As for the young woman, she reacted as if this was the usual manner all men introduced themselves to her. She smiled. Her eyes were nearly at the same level with Strenlich's; her air made her look even prettier. This was the moment when she became _Public Enemy N1_ amongst the entire female populace of 101st.

'The pleasure is mine, Chief Strenlich,' she said. 'Military lieutenant Tara Jahn, your temp.'

_xxxxx_


	4. Hi, My Name Is

Hi, My Name Is…

The day was well under way when Detective Morris set foot in 101st for the first time. He was aware that he was late, but he was clueless of the mess he was about to get into.

Broderick was receiving his new tasks when a handsome, black-haired man entered the precinct. He was not taller than six feet and was still approaching with arrogance that meant either a successful man or a complete idiot. After the first 30 seconds with him Broderick picked the latter.

'Good morning, squire, 's'up?'

'Can I help you?' asked the sergeant, who being in an awkward situation, pulled his most patient face.

'Maybe I can, he-he,' laughed the younger man and joyfully clapped on the desk.

Next he turned and saw what he believed to be the most beautiful woman he ever set eyes on. The problem was that he decided to express that with his usual flamboyance.

'Well, hello to you too, beautiful,' he said with fogy eyes and grinned.

The woman leaned on the desk and to his dismay responded.

'Well, good morning to you, handsome. What is a stud like you doing around these quarters?'

'It's your lucky day, sweetheart, I'm starting a new job. Right here. …Man, you're smokin'… Like a Barbie doll – Asian style.'

The woman checked on Broderick impressed.

'I've never had that before… And you know, I'm starting today as well. Ain't that something?'

'Absolutely!'

'I don't mean to interfere but you need to sign here,' said coldly Broderick.

'What's that?' asked Morris absently.

'Your name!'

'Oh… I'm Detective Brian Morris, straight from NYPD.'

'Swell,' muffled Broderick.

'That's for now,' said the woman to Broderick and then turned to Morris, 'I'll be seeing you, sweetie… a lot…'

'Come, let me show you to your new desk,' said the sergeant as bored as he could and slowly dragged his feet to the squad room.

'Man, this place is full of hot babes! …Hello there…'

'Finish that sentence and I finish you,' replied Jody.

'O…K….'

Morris was to take Blake's old desk. He placed a tiny box and looked around.

'Morris, Skalany and Powell. Skalany and Powell, Morris.'

'Hia…'

'Whatever…'

Broderick disappeared in the Captain's office and returned 2 minutes later much rejuvenated.

'Oh, Morris…'

'Yep?' The detective was just placing a well-used Nintendo in hi top draw.

'Time to meet your Captain and your Chief…' Broderick's evil grin gave Morris the chills.

'On my way.'

'Bless his soul,' murmured the sergeant and returned to the front desk.

xxxxx

The car passed the old house twice. No, he was not wrong, that must be it. Peter parked not far and went to check on the place. This was definitely the address the social worker had given him, yet he couldn't believe that he had sent one of his kids into such a dwelling.

Just as the former cop was wondering what to do, two police cars loudly blocked the road behind and Peter suddenly found himself surrounded. As if that was not enough, three uniforms held guns against him. By instinct he reached for his pocket and a second later it dawned on him that there was nothing in it that would make him equal to the men in front.

Reluctantly he lifted hands.

'Don't move!'

He smiled bitterly.

'What are the charges, gentlemen?'

Before any reply came, two women came out of one of the cars. There was at least 10 years difference between them, and Peter could not help but notice how pretty the younger one was.

The older came closer.

'Mr Caine? Peter Caine?'

'At your services, Madam.'

'Down boys,' ordered the younger woman and joined the older one. 'Mr Caine, pleasure to meet you, sir.'

Pleasantly surprised by the change of mood Peter approached.

'The pleasure is mine…'

'Detective Joanna Harris.'

'Nice to meet you,' said Peter and smiled shyly at the woman's way-too-prolonged gaze at him.

'Mr Caine… We spoke on the phone,' interfered the older woman, saving Peter from an uncomfortable situation.

'Mrs Gerard, right?'

'Yes, nice too meet you... Unfortunately things here don't look good. Not only have we not heard from Melanie's foster family, we can't find them. We know that her foster-father leaves for work at about that time, so we were hoping to catch them all together.'

'Isn't she supposed to be at school?'

'She's been absent for two days,' said the Detective. 'We couldn't contact any member of the family.'

Anxious Peter looked at the house. It appeared dark and cold, the front yard was not cleaned, and generally the whole area made it look like no one lived there. Just when Peter was trying to concentrate on the life force coming from the house one of the uniforms approached him.

'E-excuse me… you're r-really… Peter Caine?'

'Yeah.' Peter was a bit surprised at first but the police officer who had held gun against him only minutes ago was actually a 20-year old youth, freshly out of the Academy.

'Wow…'

'What?'

The youth made sign to the others.

'Told you I can do it.'

'Man…Peter Caine… in Riverton… Awesome!' That was another uniform, a bit older but equally mesmerised.

'What's the big deal?'

'You kidding me? You're huge, man.'

'Me?!'

'Yeah,' answered the youth whose name was Jimmy De Marco. 'We study you at the Academy.'

'What, in _10 Things Not To Do in a Hostage Situation_?'

'No, your cases, your approach… You're a legend!'

'Come on…'

'Look, after we're done here, would you like to join us for lunch?'

Hey…' Peter suddenly got serious. 'It's not time to think of lunch. Never, **ever , **take a situation for granted, you understand!'

'Y-yes, sir,' stammered Jimmy and looked ashamed at his feet.

In that moment the door of the house opened with a bang and a young girl with long, wavy hair fled out.

'Peter!'

'Mel?' Peter was running. 'Mel!'

It was pointless.

A scream and two gunshots followed.

Peter jumped to the side. All he heard was a new bang, from the shutting of the door this time. He lifted head; after the echo from the gunshots died the only sound was coming from Detective Harris's voice who was calling for back-up.

xxxxx

Still cheerful, Morris pressed the handle and entered Captain K. Griffin's office. At first everything seemed all right; one man was talking on the phone with the chair's back turned at him, while at the other end a woman was checking some files.

Then all hell broke loose.

The woman lifted head.

'Ah, hello, gorgeous.'

He gulped and nodded.

'I'm Chief Jahn, by the way,' said Tara and grinned with a smile that could make Hell freeze.

The voice from the chair disappeared and the chair turned. At that moment Morris wanted to turn and run for the hills.

'Detective Morris… Sit!'

Bryan nearly trampled in the chair while sitting, never missing off his sight the man with the scary voice, the very same he had met earlier in the morning.

'So… two fresh faces in one day; I should play the lottery,' said Kermit and smiled.

'You heard him, Detective, we have to prove ourselves.'

Morris gulped. He had no idea if his superiors were joking or being serious.

'I… Sure… I'll prove…'

'Oh… Detective Morris… considering you have already said more than enough, keeping your mouth shut will only work in your benefit,' hissed Tara in almost singing voice.

Morris bit lips.

'Now…,' continued the new Chief, 'sadly I have already proven what I'm capable of… Which leaves just you, I'm afraid.'

'Mhm…'

'I believe,' continued Kermit, 'yesterday you have received a file on a murder case from the police Commissioner?'

'Mhm…'

'And I'm sure you know it by heart.'

'Mhm…'

'Well,' said Tara and left her cosy corner, threateningly approaching Bryan, 'we're on.'

'We?'

'You have five minutes to revise your notes.'

'Notes?'

'Move it!' shouted Tara and the man jumped.

Left alone the two already good friends shared a sigh.

'I'm sorry, Kermit… about the case and one of your own….'

'And I'm sorry that a Vice-case had to become Homicide,' fumed the Captain. 'I'm even more sorry that it's been a month and no one has been punished.'

'I'll take care of that,' said Tara quietly. Before leaving the office she asked, 'When is Detective Morgan back to work?'

'In a day or two.'

The new Chief nodded and left. There was work to be done, and she knew exactly how to do it.

xxxxx

Time was vital. There was not much of it to make it possible to wait for the SWAT team; the screams and repetitive sounds of broken furniture made any delay pointless. There were enough uniforms to surround the house; more than enough if the priest's predictions were correct and there were only four people inside.

Peter had gathered enough self-confidence to allow him to go in through the main entrance. It was not the cop-confidence; if he counted on it he would have entered by now. It was his Shaolin-confidence, which had grown, honed, and perfected during the last six months.

'Police, open up,' shouted Detective Harris. Peter was on her side but he no longer had the right to break into people's houses and get away with it. The honour was Jimmy's, who sneaked behind Harris and kicked the surprisingly sturdy door.

Nothing happened.

A bit embarrassed the young cop prepared for a second hit when Peter made him sign to calm down. The priest stretched hand and positioned it above the door knob. Seconds later they heard a click. Amazed the two cops stared at Peter who shrugged innocently and made way for them to get in.

This time Jimmy's kick worked.

xxxxx

Back at the precinct things were not looking up for Detective Brian Morris. On his first day he had managed to insult his new captain and hit on his new chief. Right now he was frantically leafing through the file on a case with a serial rapist that had turned into a murder investigation after one of the attacks had gone wrong.

The case had been stuck for more than a month, with not a single suspect. Even the police's extra efforts, applied after their own Detective Morgan had become one of the victims, lead to a dead end. Morris was clueless how he would find a solution by checking a file that had been already read by at least a dozen of other cops.

Strong presence to his left made him breathe in and wipe the sweat off his forehead.

'How are we doing?' asked Chief Jahn while peaking above Brian's shoulder.

'I… There's nothing here, Chief, I'm sorry.'

'You sure?'

'Well… all facts are known… and there's nothing to give us a hint.'

'I see. Well, I guess it's never too late to learn. Move.'

Tara leaned and started placing the different papers in a weird order. Inadvertently Morris inhaled her scent, it was something very similar to jasmine.

'Let's start simply. What do we know about our victims?'

'That they're women?'

Tara rolled eyes. 'Well done, Sherlock. What else?'

'Uhm… Age…'

'Yes?'

'All between 25 and… 41?'

'Good. What about height?'

'Height?!'

The height of each of the victims was written down but so far absolutely nobody had looked at it. By that moment most of the nearby detectives had stopped whatever they were busy with.

'Uhm… Well… 5' 7''… 5' 9''… Wow, there's one of 5' 10''…'

'Anyone shorter than 5' 6'' ?'

'Uhm… nope.'

'Taller than 5' 10''?'

'Uhm…. Ah, there's one… basketball captain… 6' 04''. Let me see… She's the tallest. Ha, a rapist with fondness for tall women…'

'Oh, boy,' sighed Tara. 'What does that tell us, detective?'

'That…. He selects?'

'He's tall, you moron, _tall_!'

'R-right…'

'OK, what weapon has he used?'

'Oh, I'll have to read through the statements again…'

'There's no weapon,' said the young woman with a bored voice and continued. 'Do we have any evidence?'

'Ah, here,' exclaimed the humiliated detective. 'The one he killed… They found a long, red hair…'

'Good, good, we know how he looks.' Tara sipped coffee. 'Now, a 100-point question: judging from what we know already, and the victims' wounds… What can we conclude about our rapist's looks?'

Morris gulped. 'He's tall…' Desperately he looked around him, silently begging for help.

'How 'bout the killed girl? Check her photo.'

The picture showed a girl not older than 30 with dark spots around the neck.

'He strangled her…'

'If you look closely you'll see that the marks fall under an angle.'

'Ha… Yeah… So?'

Without a warning Tara's hand shot for Morris's neck and grabbed him.

'Can you feel that?'

'Aham…', hummed the stunned detective.

'Now, your neck is not at a comfortable distance. To do any job, I'll have to stretch my hand and grab you closer to the jaw, under an angle.'

Tara released the grip. The edge of her eyes noticed the massive attention their little talk had attracted but she didn't mind – someone had to teach the gang how to investigate properly.

'Why do you think he did that? Why not use a knife and get over with it?'

'B-because… he didn't have any?'

'Because he's tall, massive, and has big hands,' called a voice from behind. Kermit approached. 'He doesn't need a knife; he's confident in his giant paws.'

The captain turned towards Tara. 'Five minutes and you already know about the criminal more than we've learned in a month… Good job.'

'I haven't started yet, Captain,' purred Tara and returned with much more severe gaze at Morris. 'Now, let's talk psychology.'

'?!'

xxxxx

'Police!'

Jimmy De Marco had been dreaming of this moment since his pre-teens. The guns, the adrenaline, the power… In the movies cops would burst in, make some noise and get the bad guy in a nick of time.

Alas, real life ain't a movie.

Officer De Marco burst in and leapt forward, completely disregarding Peter's warning shout. The first shot missed him, so he managed to go further inside and cover behind a green wall. Peter and Detective Harris remained behind.

'Stay put, officer,' shouted Joanna. Peter could feel the massive presence of a big, heavy man, and made sign to the Detective where he would come from. Unfortunately officer De Marco didn't see the sign, nor did he pay attention to his superior's command.

At the first creak of wooden floor the young cop jumped out of his cover and straight in the way of the bullet. The lifeless body flew back like a rag doll. Peter left no place for the horror. Heavy steps followed the blood track. The leg of a massive, obese man appeared in the Shaolin's sight which was a sign to act. His left food spread and trampled the armed man who shook the house when he hit the floor. Before he could move Peter's elbow found the back of his neck and the giant didn't move again.

Anxiously Peter left him to the Detective and ran to Jimmy.

'G-get 'em…,' whispered the youth and forced a crooked smile. Peter caressed him and bit lips; there was no time to take care of everybody.

xxxxx

Tara bit lips, praying for patience. Working with half-witted under-achievers was going to take some getting used to.

'That means we're getting a psychological profile.'

'How?' Morris had found it useless to pretend he understood what was going on.

'What do we know about the victims, Detective? Anything apart from their gender and height?'

'Well… Uhm… Occupation?'

'Good, good, tell me more.'

'OK… So… We have a school principal, a basketball captain, a bank manager… another manager… prima ballerina… an anchor at the evening news…' Morris gulped. '…Detective Morgan…'

Tara turned and winked and Kermit. The Captain took his glasses off and went to check the data himself. He couldn't believe they had not done this before. It was so terribly obvious!

'Come on, Morris, impress me. What's the link?'

'Well… They're all successful, that's for sure.'

Tara looked victoriously.

'The high point of my morning!'

'Well?'

'This man has some serious issues,' continued Tara in a sombre tone, sounding like she was reading. 'Successful women threaten him… This, or he simply thinks they all need to be punished, need to pay.'

'Childhood trauma?' suggested Kermit.

'Mmm, isn't that where all our issues stem from? Could have been a strict teacher, an abusive mother… A woman with authority over him, a woman with power.'

'How can they threaten a man bigger than Shack?'

This time Kermit interfered. 'If you have nothing smart to say, Detective, I advise you to say nothing.'

'Rule number one in dealing with women, Morris, size doesn't matter,' said Tara and disappeared in her office.

'In 10 minutes we've advanced on that case more than in weeks…' mumbled Jody and felt her growing discomfort around the new Chief almost tangibly.

Tara returned with a map and placed her near the water dispenser.

'Right. Morris?'

'Yes, Chief.'

'Check the material evidence supplied from the victims.'

'Uhm… Private things… Documents… Papers…'

'How 'bout receipts,' suggested Tara absently while leafing through a folder she had collected from her new office.

'Ehm… I see…. Yes, we have some…'

Meanwhile she unfolded a map of China Town's West End that Blake had kindly supplied her with.

'Thanks, Detective, you've been very helpful.'

Red pins were pointing at certain areas, all completely unknown to the new detective.

'If you had done your job properly, Detective,' said Tara with her back at Morris, 'you would have noticed that our victims share something very important in common – they like to party.'

'Uhm, excuse me, we've already checked that…' Jody found it necessary to interfere. She was feeling extremely uncomfortable about the fact that someone who had just set foot in their precinct might solve a case she was seeing for the first time... And someone so beautiful, too…

'Not good enough, Detective Powell, not good enough,' answered Tara coldly. 'Right. These are the clubs the ladies have been partying up to 12 hours prior to the attacks; the 'Agrippa', 'Utopia', bar-club 'Soirée', and the 'Queen of Spades'… I like that last one…

'Tara, we _have_ checked that link…' said Kermit in a quiet voice.

'And you found out that the clubs' owners were clean, or that all of the bar-tenders and bus-boys have alibi?'

As no reply came she looked at Kermit patronisingly.

'It's OK, Captain, if you don't know where to look, you'll never see it.'

XXX


	5. It's Never Too Late

It Is Never Too Late

Sally Randolf had had a tough life. Systematically abused and molested by her step-father she had run away from home when she was 17 and married Bruce Randolf when she was 19.

Ten years later life was not any better. In a house sieged by cops, Sally was wondering whether to surrender or pull the trigger. She had nothing against the little girl. Young Mel was a hard worker and for the greater part – quite obedient; of all of their wards she needed the least beating.

Before Sally had managed to make a decision a strong hand pulled her back. She found herself paralyzed and helplessly observed the gun drop to the ground and Mel finding herself in the arms of a tall stranger.

By the time uniforms invaded the house she had regained her senses just enough to feel cold metallic grip around her wrists.

xxxxx

Tara pulled a piece of paper and started reading.

'You may know that the owner of 'Soirée' provides his own alcoholic supplies…'

'Yes?'

'But did you know that he does so for other clubs, too?'

Silence.

'For 100 points, guess the clubs…'

'You're joking.'

Tara handed the paper to her Captain.

'That's the common link – all fours clubs receive their daily beer shipment from 'DJ Ltd', the supplying company of Darren Jones, also owner of bar-club 'Soirée'.

Kermit was shocked.

'So… We interrogate Jones?' Brian decided to make another try.

'We check his staff. Considering his size, a big, bulky man would probably be used for manual work. Our rapist has not specifically stalked his victims; he has just spotted them… without being spotted himself. That's the problem with our society – we choose not to see what we don't like.'

'…In this way,' continued Kermit, 'we have a basketball team congratulating their captain…'

'…thus ignoring the massive man with a crate or two of vodka in his hands. Exactly.'

Tara was applying make-up.

'Good that I brought my fake glasses,' she said and put a pair of elegant glasses that made her look like a very sexy math teacher.

'C'mon Ken.' She meant Brian.

'I'm coming with you.'

'Kermit… Captain, we're just going to take a look. If he's there, I'll call for back-up. I promise.'

Kermit mumbled 'I doubt it' and grunting hid in his den.

'Ken!'

'It's Brian…'

'I'll stick to Ken for now.' She glared severely in Morris's eyes. 'Do you mind… Ken?'

'N-not at all…'

'Good.' Tara put a knee-long jacket on. 'C'mon, Ken, chop chop.'

Morris barely managed to grab his own jacket and hurried ahead. This was going to be a very long day.

xxxxx

The car was already on the way, Mel was still in Peter's arms. The frightened girl had curled up next to her guardian and was hiding face on his chest.

'It's OK, honey, you're safe now. You're safe….' Peter kept whispering words of consolation until the girl finally looked up. Her face immediately brightened when she saw the old, brown house remaining behind them.

It was a police car they were in. One of the uniforms was driving, with Mrs Gerard next to him on the front seat. Peter was going to worry about his own car later.

'Mel?' Mrs Gerard, quite cold-hearted in her 20 years of experience, couldn't wait to get the information she needed. 'Mel, we need to talk about your foster-father…'

Peter was about to object but the 10-year-old was faster.

'Don't call him like that! _Father_ is something special, and that creep was nothing like it.' She paused and looked at Peter's concerned face. '…The only father I've ever had is Pete.'

Having said that Mel cuddled back in Peter's arms. Unbeknownst to the people in front Peter was gently pressing a special part of the girl's back; in a minute the child was sound asleep.

Meanwhile the young priest was absently observing the fast changing sequence of houses. Mel was right, _father_ was something special, it was a title. It took more than foster-care assignment for one to call himself a _father_…

x

_It was not so much Peter's interference as Dr Sabourin's quick reaction that caused the havoc. Nurses and medical personnel were coming and going. Annie had been forced to leave the seat by her fading husband and deal with formalities. _

_Peter didn't move. __Blood poisoning!__ The two words were echoing in his head. His eyes fell on the backpack full of herbs. Tara's ringing voice filled his mind and his heart. _

**_'…_****_Cure for blood poisoning...'_**

_Almost automatically two hands with tiger and dragon on the forearms stretched for the bag. Carefully the three herbs were selected and placed on the bed side table. _

**_'…_****_Equal parts...' _**

_How was he to select those equal parts? How were they to be brewed? The answer revealed itself under the form of powerful presence; Peter turned to see the Ancient's little figure behind._

_'__What…'_

_'__You have all the herbs?'_

_'__Yes, they're right here.'_

_'__Good.' In that moment Dr Sabourin entered together with a nurse. 'This young man will need some bowls… and hot water, please.'_

_'__What's going on here?' The nurse reacted as she had been taught. 'These plants are to be taken out of here at once!'_

_'__Hush…' The Doctor approached. 'Would these herbs help?'_

_'__They would not treat his tumour, it is too late for that. But they will cleanse his blood…' The old man turned to Paul. '…and will give him the time he needs.' _

_'__So it __**is**__ blood poisoning?'_

_'__Yes.'_

_ '__Bring the man what he needs. Hurry!' _

_Dr Sabourin approached the bed._

_'__Mr Blaisdell?'_

_'__Still here,' answered Paul and opened eyes. _

_'__Would you agree to a slightly… more untraditional treatment? I'm afraid the poisoning might have progressed too far for our medications.'_

_Paul turned and saw the old man._

_'__Would this help?'_

_'__It will… give you some more time with…'_

_'__All I want! Do it!'_

_'__You will be in great pain…'_

_'__I am… accustomed… to pain…'_

_Peter smiled and caressed the wrinkled forehead. _

_'__I'll be here, Dad, I'll be here all the time.'_

_Slightly surprised the Ancient peeked at Peter; the young man was holding his foster-father's hand._

_Paul relaxed and his son's attention returned to the older man._

_'__Lo…. Why are you doing this?'_

_'__It is the least I can do, Peter,' replied the Ancient and unfolded the papers with the herbs in them. 'You will add one handful of each to the hot water. You will wait half hour. Then you will pour of the tea just this much,' the old man pointed at a small Chinese tea cup, 'and give it to him while the rest of the herbs keep soaking. You will do this every half hour. The liquid will be getting stronger… and it will cause your foster-father more and more pain… In the end he will sweat, he may even throw up, but he will be fine.'_

_'__Why does this routine seem so…familiar?'_

_'__This is the treatment your father used when you had been injected with over-dose of heroine.'_

_Both foster-father and son stared intently at the Ancient. None of them had ever received a satisfactory answer to how exactly Peter survived that night. Paul held his son's hand tighter. Peter nodded, and as soon as the hot water arrived he set to work. There was no need to look for the Ancient; the old man was gone._

_xxxxx_

They were not too far from Main when Morris finally spoke.

'I don't mean to sound more ignorant than I already have, but what are we doing?'

Tara smiled.

'We're entering inside pretending to be an arguing couple.' Morris lifted and eye-brow. 'Then I set myself as bait. I search for a place to attract the predator. You wait five minutes and follow.'

They parked.

'Understood?' Tara's voice sounded demanding.

'Five minutes. Understood.'

Before they entered 'Soirée' Morris heard the first good thing about himself today.

'Hey, Morris… You're not ignorant.'

As soon as they got in the hunting began. Aggressively Tara pushed her subordinate.

'I don't care what you want,' she shouted. 'I'm doing it, understood?'

'Wha….'

'You're not telling me what to do!'

The detective was stunned.

'Play along, you dope,' hissed Tara and pushed him again. 'Now just keep away from me!' she shouted and pushed Morris one more time.

'All… right…' Quietly the cop sat and watched.

The Chinese stunner, having made herself look like a successful career woman, sat by the bar. The place was naturally empty, but still open, so a lot of the staff was to be seen preparing for a busy night. Naturally they were mostly stocking the shelves and fridges.

'Hey, you, you serving?' The young woman sat on one of the tall chairs, her short skirt revealing a pair of endless legs that made her new subordinate just stare blankly and gulp.

The owner was at present behind the bar. Annoyed, he approached.

'Martini, just a breath of vermouth.'

'Too early to drink, isn't it?' hinted the man while mixing the drink.

Like by order in that very moment two heavy-looking men passed, each carrying two crates of beer.

'Look, pal, I'm making 100 bucks and hour. I can drink whatever I wan', whenever I wan'. 'K?'

'OK…'

With the corner of her eyes Tara followed where the two men went. Nervously she reached for her cell and started fuming over the bad signal.

'Uhm… Hey… you… Yeah, the bar-guy… I need some signal and quiet place. You got back yard or something?'

'Y-yes…'

Tara left, taking care that her heels made as much noise as possible.

'It's my broker…'

Morris counted. He had noticed the big men with the crates but their faces remained hidden to him. All he had to do now was wait. Nervously he checked his watch. He was certain that if nothing happened back there his new chief would be back in no time. Yet, three minutes later she was still missing.

Four minutes.

Five…

The detective checked his gun and headed for the back. At the protesting bar-tender he flashed his badge and made a sign for silence. Few metres later Brian Morris was standing in front of a sight that Western science had taught him was not possible.

There, surrounded by empty crates and broken glass, Chief Jahn was standing next to a massive man with long, copper-red hair. He was at her feet. She had one finger pressed on him. The man was crying.

'S-stop… I… I d-did it… Th-they were asking f-for it… S-stop, please…'

Victoriously the big, black eyes shot Morris a glance.

'So you confess?'

'Yes!... I… I d-didn't mean to k-kill the l-last one…'

Tara pulled a pair of hand-cuffs she had adjusted beforehand to suit oversized wrists. Then she leaned and pulled the giant like he weighed nothing.

'You're under arrest…'

Morris didn't even bother listen to the rest. It was unfathomable, impossible. When finally they made it back to the precinct, he was still trying to figure how such a fragile-looking creature like his new chief could subdue a man three times her size.

x

The trio's arrival at the precinct caused a moment of silence. Morris was taking the giant to a cell. Tara only allowed herself the luxury to inspect the result of her hunting from the front desk. Sensing a much lighter grip, the huge man, named Ainslie Shmidt, tried to show some resistance, mostly for his own self-respect. The moment he attempted that the slender Chinese, who was writing something, raised voice.

'Ainslie, behave yourself… Don't make me come in there…'

The man's pupils doubled their size.

'Keep her away from me. Away from me!'

The fear in his eyes made the stunned cops look back, just to make sure that he really meant the tender creature that had become their new Chief, one who could easily fit in the man's trouser leg.

'Now, that's what I call a morning well used,' smiled Tara and left the speechless Broderick ponder over the kind of world they lived in. 'Now, let's slip into something warmer…'

xxxxx

A bump on the slippery road distracted Peter from the painful memory. Mel also woke up and just in time to see the front of the local police station. The little girl held her guardian's arm tight.

'Why are we at the police?'

'It's just a formality,' smiled Peter and stroke the messy hair. A pair of worried, brown eyes was peeking at him. As if reading the girl's mind he assured her that she was staying with him and nowhere else.

Inside the broad building they didn't find the noisy mess so typical of a big city precinct. Deputy Stevens lead them to the Chief's office where Peter had to face a small mountain of paperwork.

'Peter Caine?'

The voice belonged to Tim Donovan, an old acquaintance from the police academy.

'Tim? He-hey, buddy…'

'I can't believe it! It must be… what, 10 years?'

'Ten years at least.'

'You're very popular, Mr Caine,' approached Detective Harris, trying to make herself as familiar with the former cop as possible.

'Nah, just an old pal from the Academy.'

'You graduated together?'

'Yeah, right,' laughed Donovan. The hot-shot here was at the top. Me, I graduated in the Golden Middle with the simple mortals.

Abashed Peter turned to Harris.

'Yes, we graduated together.'

Donovan had been assigned to 74th in Sloanville but life, as well as the eyes of a pretty girl, had taken him to Riverton.

'So, it's true… You're not a cop anymore?'

'Nope. Now I'm dealing with little rascals and stray dogs.'

'Hey!'

A frowned little face was looking at him from bellow.

'Some of them particularly annoying,' winked Peter and tickled Mel. 'Come on… Nice seeing you, Timmy.'

'Take care, Pete.'

Mel was her guardian's shadow, so much that he had difficulties sitting. A woman that looked like a strict governess was waiting for them; the young girl positioned herself as far away from her as possible.

'Is this Melanie?'

'Yes. And you are…'

'Ruth Smith, Chief of Social Services, Riverton County. Mrs Gerard kept me up to date with Melanie's case.

'Great. In this case you know that Mel is coming with me.'

'Melanie is going to a new foster home…'

'…that _I_ am going to handpick for her,' replied Peter in an aggressive manner.

They were interrupted by Detectives Harris and Weaver who brought what seemed like another mountain of papers.

'Mr Caine, you're not capable of choosing properly. There are criteria…'

'With all due respect, Mrs Smith, after the mess you got my girl into I don't think you're in the position to discuss _capability.._.'

'Alright,' interfered Mrs Gerard. 'Mel will be back into the care of Sloanville Social Services 72 hours after her return to the city. This is all the time you…'

'I'll manage.'

'Really?' exclaimed Mel and wrapped hands around her hero's neck.'

'…will have before Melanie is transferred to an orphanage.' The social worker was not the least moved.

'If I don't find anyone… _I_'ll take her.'

'Really?!' Tears were glittering in the light-brown eyes. 'Don't wait. Take me now, Pete, please!

'Honey…'

'Melanie, Mr Caine can only be your legal guardian.'

'He's my Daddy,' hissed the girl and leaned head on Peter's shoulder holding him even tighter.

'Mel, you're exaggerating,' whispered the priest. He was quickly regretting his haste.

'But you are! For most of us you're the only Daddy we've ever had.'

'Who is _us_, Melanie,' asked Mrs Smith with a flat voice.

'The other kids… at the Centre.' Then she turned to Peter. 'Please, take me!'

'Mel, I'd love that, but you need a family, honey, and I'm all alone.'

The girl pouted.

'Listen, you need the caress of a mother and the protection of a father. And I… I'm on the move the whole day. I don't even have a proper home.'

'I don't care.'

'Look… I… I'll find you a good home. This time I will select the people. Personally.'

'What if they suck?'

'No one can lie to a Shaolin, remember?'

Mel nodded and was rewarded with a quick kiss on the forehead.

xxxxx

The day continued normally, at least for Chief Tara Jahn. To her the _Shmidt_ case was closed, another red point in the long list of cases she had cracked. Of course for the detectives of 101st it was different since one of their own was amongst the victims, but Tara would rather not think of that.

If she thought, she would feel. If the felt, she would get emotional. And emotions are human's greatest enemy.

Tara had masterfully learned to keep her own emotions hidden, there was no point in changing that now.

x

The click from the light switch echoed in the big, cold room. Tara's briefcase landed on a sheet-covered couch with a muffled sound. She started making her way through the boxes. While taking refreshing sips of water in her kitchen the young woman considered that this was going to be how her living room would look like for the next week at least.

After a fruitful first day of fighting crime in the big city, Tara had managed only a fraction of the paperwork inherited from Strenlich. It was nothing she couldn't handle in a day or two but there was no way she would sit and watch her new team handle the adversities of the criminal world from the comfort of her den.

The west side of her broad, Π-shaped ground floor had a comfy couch that was going to serve as bed for the time being. The spacious and absolutely wonderful master bedroom on the upper level would have been a much more fortunate place but what should have been a bed was dismantled in pieces, and there was no mattress either.

Well, the fireplace was functioning at least…

A cold dinner and a warm shower later Tara nested under two thick blankets; work could wait until tomorrow.

One half of a jade Yin-Yang pendant was hanging round her neck. She kissed the accessory and stared at the mesmerising dance of the flames, allowing their glow to take her to yet another night of nightmares.

xxxxx

'You're taking this very personally,' remarked Harris, who was in the meantime getting ever more interested in the attractive former cop.

'A child needs a family,' was the cold reply. 'And _family_ has nothing to do with blood.'

x

_The first portion of the tea was bearable, even pleasant. The second was bitter, and the third – simply painful._

_It was just father and son in the room. The girls had finally persuaded Annie to have some rest, while Simon was more than happy to leave this full of death and smell of death place._

_Paul could swear that he was already feeling better. The doctors had determined that it was too late to treat the blood poisoning so they easily agreed to leave them alone. When the captain opened eyes he saw his son there, by his side, where he'd always wanted him to be, with gaze wandering beyond the dull window view._

_'__Paul…' Peter stirred._

_'__I thought…' He coughed. '…you'd never notice…'. He smiled and lifted trembling hand. Readily his boy offered himself to the caress. _

_'__What is it?'_

_'__You mean other than my Dad for 20 years fighting death?'_

_'__Yes.'_

_Peter's ironic smile froze._

_'…__Nothing… It's nothing… Here, have some water, in 10 minutes you're having the next dose.'_

_'__Yuck.'_

_During the next 12 hours Paul Blaisdell's miraculous recovery became the talk of the hospital. Several times Dr Sabourin enquired about the mixture Peter used, and several times the young Shaolin was mortified by his ignorance on the subject of herbal medicine._

_The last thing Peter remembered from this day was his talk with Kermit._

_It must have been after 12. Annie had taken night watch by Paul's bed thus giving Peter the opportunity to have his first bite for the day. After leaving his old friend's room, Kermit nested next to his younger friend. _

_'__That was close…'_

_'__Yeah,' smacked Peter and sipped coffee. _

_'__Pete, it's OK, he'll be alright…' _

_Peter's empty expression betrayed no emotion whatsoever, so Kermit had to guess; and he couldn't have been more wrong._

_'__God, Kermit… I can't stop thinking about her.'_

_The green shades grinned._

_'__I wake up and I fall asleep with the image of her eyes…'_

_'__Pete…'_

_'__I think I'm losing her.'_

_'__Peter…'_

_'__It's me, you know, me and my Caine-luck. I know it, I'll never see her again, I just know it… Gosh, I'm pathetic.'_

_'__Why?!'_

_'__Paul almost died and all I can think of is one… ghost.'_

_'__OK… First thing's first. Considering Tara's full recovery, I wouldn't refer to her as 'ghost'.'_

_Peter stared._

_'__You… you saw her?'_

_'__I was with her for almost a month, remember?'_

_'__How is she?'_

_'__Fully recovered and getting ready.'_

_'__?!'_

_'…__To come here.'_

_'__Why are you messing with me?'_

_'__Is it so hard to believe?'_

_'__That Peter Caine can be happy? Oh, yes.'_

_'__Get used to it.'_

_For a while nobody said anything, Peter continued with his dinner and Kermit was playing with something._

_'__Look, Pete… We really have a lot to talk about, 6 months is a long time. But it's late and after this hell of a day we both can use some sleep.' Peter moved eyebrows enough to point that he agreed and stretched for another French fry. 'However, I can understand your pressure.' He finally handed Peter a little velvet pouch he'd been fidgeting with for a while. 'Here, I think this will make the waiting a bit more bearable.'_

_'__For me?'_

_'__Yes. Open it.'_

_Absently Peter wiped fingers and took the pouch. Inside he found a tear-shaped white pendant. Looking at it closely he realised it was the one half of the Yin-Yang symbol, made of a very rare type of jade._

_'__It's Tara's.'_

_No response came._

_'__She wants you to keep it for her. You know… until she comes for it.'_

_Peter held the little ornament like it was a precious relic. Tenderness that he had not felt in many months filled his heart. He leaned, caressed the little pendant with fingertip and kissed it. Then he hung it round his neck._

_'__Thanks, buddy. For everything.'_

_Kermit smiled and fixed his green shades. Then he left._

_x_

He must have been playing with the keys to his hotel room for a while.

'Thank you, Mr Caine.'

'Huh? …Oh… yeah, no big deal, I'm happy to do it. Come on, Mel.'

'You know…' The 10-year-old shot him a mischievous look. 'I figured it. You need a girlfriend.'

Peter started blushing.

'Oh, boy…'

'If you have a girlfriend then you may get married and then you can take me.' She grinned.

Detective Harris had been kind enough to take the pair to a hotel where they had a two-bedroom suite waiting. Currently she was feeling rather uncomfortable when two assertive eyes inspected her from below.

'Are you single?'

Peter sighed.

'As a matter of fact I am.'

Discomfort left aside, Harris needed very little time to appreciate Peter Caine's qualities. She was also shameless enough to look him straight in the eyes when she manifested her civil status.

'I'll get you for this,' he whispered to the little matchmaker. 'Uhm… Have a good evening, Detective, I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Of course. I'm really looking forward to working with you,' purred Harris and winked playfully.

xxxxx

'Working late again?'

'You never told me captainhood is so tiresome.'

'Wait to see what commissionhood does to you.'

Karen smiled and sat next to her partner.

'Is Chris asleep?'

'Yes, thank God. The Ancient's herbs did miracles with her tooth. …What are you doing?'

'I'm making Melanie Winch's case known to the families on the adoption list. We'll have less than 3 days after she comes back.'

'He can't save all children, for heaven's sake!'

'Tell it to him.'

'Sure. When is he back, anyway?'

'Any of these days… He's staying in Riverton to help with some weird homicide.'

'So, it will be a while…'

'I know, but it should give her time to adjust.'

'Yes.' Karen kissed her partner. 'Don't be too long.'

XXX


	6. Trials

Trials

For centuries smart men and women have tried to get into the mind of criminals. Today Bobby Callahan would have been very curious to hear their opinion on gangsters and those of them that take hostages in various supermarkets at 9 am. For once, Bobby was not a morning person.

'…there. Callahan..'

'Chief…'

'What is it?'

'I guess they are taking over?'

'Who…'

Lasher's SWAT team was the salt and pepper of every hostage situation in town.

'Damn it,' swore Kermit and approached Bobby.

'Did you tell her?'

'I haven't had the chance yet, Captain.'

'Thanks, Blake, you're a treasure.' Tara looked at her freshly delivered map. 'Tell me what?'

'About Lasher…'

'Who… You mean the imbecile preparing to take Forth Nox? I'll be happy to have a word with him.'

'Uh-oh..'

All the two men could do was sit and wait for the disaster.

xxxxx

'We've already checked, the victims aren't related.'

'If they're not then there wouldn't be anything peculiar about these homicides. On a certain level you _do _believe they are related, don't you?'

Harris sat and stared at Peter while he was going through some data on the computer he had been given access to.

'I was right about you.'

'You figured me already?' smiled Peter without setting eyes off the screen.

'I'm trying…'

'Don't.' Their eyes finally met. 'I'm like an onion – the deeper you go the more tears you shed.'

Before the pretty detective managed to answer Peter changed the topic.

'There it is!' The woman gladly came closer. 'Mrs Weiss was client of _Astra Insurance Int_.'

'We know. But Mrs Hansen was with a different company.'

'Not until 4 years ago. See? She's been client of _Astra_ for 11 years before that.'

'I can't believe we missed that!'

'It's not exactly obvious…'

'Then…' Joanna was close enough to feel the aroma from Peter's aftershave.

'Let's go rip some feathers.'

'My favourite morning workout.'

xxxxx

Captain Jack Lasher was too stunned by the beauty of the woman in front of him to react adequately. By the time she was done with him he was ready to return teach in the Academy.

'What are you doing?'

'Doing my job.'

'Killing innocent? Nice.'

'Who exactly…'

'Chief Lt Tara Jahn, 101st.'

'Lieutenant? Good for you,' mocked Lasher and tried to return to his business.

'All my battles have been military… Captain…'

Lasher stared.

'So… what do you suggest?'

Tara needed minutes to regroup the troops. The strategy had been ready in seconds – inside her razor-sharp mind – and included SWAT members reluctantly working side by side with 1-0-1 detectives.

'This is outrageous.'

'You know what is outrageous?' hissed Tara and came dangerously close to the SWAT captain. 'Risking innocent people's lives while playing Commando.'

'We've got a hostage situation here…' raised voice Lasher but Tara interrupted.

'Listen to me you, idiot, these are amateurs we're dealing with here; they are unpredictable. They may surrender, they may blow the place up. We are dictating the rules.'

'We dictate nothing…'

'If you think so, then step aside and watch how it's done, because they're going to do _exactly_ as I want them to.'

xxxxx

Greg Franklin watched his interrogators leave the building. Life hadn't turned the way he planned it. In his late 40s he had transformed from a man who blindly followed the rules to one who broke them. And things actually turned around, money was no longer scarce. In fact, money was abundant now, so he wasn't going to let an ambitious police chick and her hot-shot friend ruin his plans.

Meanwhile Detective Harris was about to take her keys when Peter stopped her.

'I have a better idea, let's walk.'

'Walk?!' It's bellow 0…'

'It might get warmer…'

xxxxx

'All teams set?'

Several positive answers followed. Tara glared at Lasher who was waiting to be amazed.

'Let's dance.'

A second later loud sirens filled the air behind the supermarket. Sounds of flying helicopters and gunshots followed, all coming from the same source, all without the presence of a single machine around.

Tara had given orders for the whole front area to be emptied. The talker had been told to inform the criminals that all their requests would be fulfilled.

This was so obvious that it felt unreal, which is why it worked. That was the good thing with amateurs – they think with a few guns and hostages they'll be able to retire on the Mexican beaches.

'You really think this will work?' shouted Lasher, attempting to sound serious in the noisy mess around them.

'You Western people always search for the complicated solution. Simplicity, Lasher, always search simplicity.'

Simultaneously with her words two cars arrived at the parking. The drivers went out, both leaving the keys on the ignition. One of them stood in front of the doors and placed a large, black travel bag on the ground. Then he disappeared, too.

Only a minute later the doors opened. Screaming people fled out panicked, followed by five masked figures that were shooting in the air. Only three of them made it to the cars however. Two were lost in the panic, partly with the assistance of Callahan and Morris who quickly and quietly took them from the back and then blended with the running crowd.

'You idiot, you blew up the tire!'

'I didn't…'

From the safe distance of their hideout Lasher was trying to figure it.

'You gave them a car with a punctured tire?'

'Of course not! But my people are such unreliable shooters…'

The criminals were forced to remain with just one hostage.

'The bag's too big!'

'Please, please…' was crying the girl.

'Check it out!'

The travelling bag was full with unmarked 5 and 10 dollar bills. The problem – 1 million dollars in 5 and 10 dollar bills…

The car was too small, the bag – too big.

'Get out of here, bitch,' shouted the leader of the gang, seriously worried about the approaching army of police cars and helicopters.

The men hadn't managed to start the engine when a black circle engulfed them. SWAT and cops teamed up to make sure the car wouldn't move an inch. The situation had been solved.

Tara looked victoriously. Sipping from her coffee she moved away.

'You see, Captain, all clear, without a single shot. …Oh, pardon me, with one shot, actually.' She winked and left.

Lasher was too humiliated to leave the hideout. Instead he readily dedicated himself to the media.

xxxxx

'If you wanted to get to your car I could have taken you there…'

'I prefer to walk,' replied Peter and the moment he said it realized he couldn't sound more 'Caine' than that.

'These quarters aren't very… prestigious…'

'You're a cop. You're afraid?'

'N-no! Of course not.'

It had taken them less than quarter of an hour to get to the centre of the 'poor' areas which were as ghetto as a little town could get.

'They need to clean the streets,' mumbled Peter and unbuttoned his jacket.

'It's close to zero and you're warm?'

'I'm not comfortable with my moves when I'm too dressed.'

'Moves?'

'Is your gun loaded?'

'Always! …Why did you stop?'

No answer came. What appeared were four thugs. Detective Harris could never understand how these vermins always seemed to dwell in the poor areas.

'Got lost, guys?'

'We can help you find the way… To the hospital…'

'OK, guys, here's the thing…' The detective stretched for her gun.

'Harris, no!'

Peter didn't manage to stop her. By the time she was ready to shoot, one of their attackers fired a gun. Fortunately he missed as Peter jumped and pushed his temporary partner to the side.

'Great, now _I_'m the reasonable Shaolin...' he mumbled.

The first two attacked together. Peter didn't have time to get up but he was fast enough with two brisk moves of his hands. The power field threw them to the end of the little square, enough for Peter to get up, help Detective Harris, and face the shooter.

'Nice trick.'

'You haven't seen anything yet,' grinned the priest. Of his two lifted hands he slightly moved the right forward and seconds later the heated gun dropped down. Its owner was too shocked to react fast enough. Before he realised what happened, a heavy fist knocked him unconscious.

'What the…'

'Cuff him, I'll tell you later,' said Peter with even voice and approached the last one.

It must have been the haste, or the reduced concentration… Or probably the exhaustion from the almost simultaneous use of The Hand of Thousand Bells and pyrokinesis. Whatever it was, Peter didn't sense on time the presence behind him.

The man in front attacked and was knocked out immediately. This was when a short person from behind attacked, too. Harris shouted just in time for Peter to turn. The iron pipe licked his forehead but he couldn't avoid the kick in the stomach. He staggered and tripped over a stone; the scaffolding he hit afterwards did the rest.

Harris, who had already shot the shorty, remained helpless witness to a pile of construction junk falling on her new partner. For parts of the second images with big city cops turning her neat, little town upside-down flashed through her head. She remained motionless until the piercing sound of sirens brought her back.

xxxxx

Lieutenant Jahn was pleased with the outcome of yet another successful operation. She was just preparing to leave for the precinct when her glance caught the inevitable crowd of journalists who were gathering at the sight of a crime scene faster than vultures gather around a dying body.

It wasn't the crowd that annoyed her, it was one particular woman who had allowed herself to pass the safety zone and was trying her luck with Jody.

'Who does she think she is?'

'It's Sandra Mason,' came a voice from behind. Kermit was headed for the precinct as well. 'The necessary evil at every crime scene in this city.'

'Why has no one put her to her place by now?'

'Freedom of speech, democracy, and other blessings of the Western world…'

Tara looked at him patronisingly then moved on.

'What are you up to? …Tara?...'

'I feel lucky today,' grinned the young chief and headed for the place where Jody was practically burning at the stake.

'And... here is our new chief of detectives… I'm sure she can give you all the information you seek.'

'Thank you, detective.'

'Hello, I'm Sandra Mason, Channel 4, can you tell us…'

'I can't and I'm not going to tell you anything. An official police statement will follow once the case has been closed.'

'The people have the right to know,' said Sandra in her usual manner. She couldn't help, however, feeling completely intimidated by the tall stunner opposite her.

Tara came even closer. She was looking Mason straight in the eyes.

'The people have the right to remain safe… which cannot happen if the media puts the lives of those meant to keep them so in danger.'

'I have no intention…'

'Miss Mason... It's Miss, isn't it?'

Mason shivered. She felt naked.

'Your very presence at the crime scene is a danger and violation of at least 5 different rules and regulations. I am not going to endanger the lives of my people as well as the whole operation in order to help the career of a local upstart reporter.'

Mason made signal to her camera man to quit shooting.

'There's a freedom of speech in this country, chief…'

'Miss Mason,' continued Tara with even, composed tone. 'There are many freedoms in this country. And many laws. Unfortunately…' Tara came even closer. 'I know them well. Now, you will leave the crime scene… and my sight, too, and mingle with the rest of your colleagues…'

'…Or…'

'… or I will launch an investigation against you. It will take months, and in that time you won't be able to come close to a camera, lest a microphone. I will track every… single… reportage of yours and count every… single… violation you have made, starting with this one… The investigation will take a lot of time, and, if successful, it will threaten to change to entire journalistic landscape in the US of A. And even if you're lucky to avoid jail, at the end of this you won't be able to get a place in a school radio.'

After a few seconds of silence Sandra asked:

'Who are you going to call?'

'Oh, no, Miss Mason… The call is yours.'

No response came. Sandra Mason was desperately trying to withstand her opponent's powerful gaze. In the end she regressed.

'Jimmy… Let's go.'

Tara didn't move. In disturbing silence she observed the retreating reporter that had been pestering the cops of 101st for years. When she finally turned, the new chief was welcomed by a small crowd. All of the 1-0-1 team that was at the crime scene was staring in a silent awe. Kermit had actually taken his glasses off.

The lieutenant smiled and walked passed them.

'Sometimes it's just too easy…'

xxxxx

'We should call.'

'Why? Do you want to give explanations to over-polished, know-it-all, big-city cops? I don't think so.'

'Joanna…'

'We're in public, James! …And, we're not together anymore… Look, I'm not saying we won't call. Let's first see how he's doing; the man may be all right…'

Detective Harris was interrupted by the Chief of the Riverton ER Dr. Craig.

'Dr...'

'Detectives… We're moving him to an intensive care room.'

'But he's OK?'

'It's too early to tell. I can't believe that after having so much rubble crashing on top of him he's actually alive!'

'Anything broken?'

'No, just a sprained ankle and a cracked rib.'

'Thank God!'

'But…'

'I hate 'but',' mumbled Det. James Weaver.

'It's his head I'm worried about. I fear there might be some internal injury, I'll know more after the CT scan.'

'Is he going to wake up?'

'He will. But you should be prepared for something more than a headache.'

'Oh, boy…'

Two long hours later, left alone by her colleague, Harris was finally allowed in Peter's room. She brightened significantly at the sight of doctor and patient having a chat.

'Hello, there,' greeted the woman, visibly excited.

'Hi,' was the weak reply. Peter was looking like he couldn't comprehend the whole fuss.

'How's the headache?'

'Uhm…' Peter was practically piercing the pretty detective. 'I don't really have one…' He searched the MD's assistance.

'You'll feel it once the effect of the pain killers is over. Unless you want us to prescribe you…'

'No painkillers.' Peter gulped and tried to move. 'I've been trained… to deal with pain…' he groaned and sat in bed. Then he felt what could be described as an avalanche sliding down from his head.

'Ugh…'

'I advise you to lie down for a bit longer,' said the doctor slightly bored.

He was well informed about Peter. The patient's medical file had been sent to him at once. It took Dr Craig more than an hour to check through the basics only, but at least he knew what he was dealing with – a stubborn but otherwise healthy former cop who hardly had a part on his body that hadn't been injured, bruised or shot at.

Peter closed eyes and reluctantly followed the advice. He opened them when the deafening noise in his hears receded. The pretty detective was looking at him concerned.

'Would like us to call anyone?'

'No, no need to worry my… No, thanks.' Then he turned at the MD. 'What the hell was that?'

'I'll have the results from the CT scan any time now. My prediction is that the hit has caused a swelling in your brain.'

'The hit… Right.' Attempting not to succumb to panic Peter looked through the window. It was snowing again. 'It's snowing! Snow?'

The detective was puzzled.

'Yes… It usually snows in February.'

'Feb..ruary…' whispered Peter and frowned. His face strained.

'What is it?'

'Uhm… Doc, how long do I need to stay?'

'Once the CT scan is here I'll let you know. But not more than a day, I reckon. That is, as long as you stay put and rest.'

'Oh, I will.'

'Do you want me to fix your mood?' interfered Harris.

'Please.'

'We have progress on the case. Turns out the two victims have not only been customers of the same insurance company, they've had the same broker.'

'Yes?'

'Uhm… that... is good, Peter.'

'That's good…Yes… We're progressing… on the case…' Uncertain Peter took a peek at his forearms – they were still branded.

'You were right!'

'I was?'

'No wonder you have this super-hero image… You're sharp, you beat those thugs…'

'The thugs… Yes, I've beaten thugs… Lots of them…'

The doctor silently nodded at the injured man. For some unknown reason Peter badly needed his encouragement.

'Uhm… Look, Miss….'

'I told you to call me Joanna.'

'Joanna… what do you say once I'm out of here, we go out for a dinner and you tell me everything about... the case?'

Pleasantly surprised at the unexpected turn of events Harris blushed.

'Absolutely! My treat.'

'Great. And… Joanna, right?'

The woman turned to the doctor and then back at Peter and hesitantly nodded.

'Before we go there, I have two questions. I'll start with the easy one.'

'Yes?'

'Where the hell am I?'

XXX


	7. Temptations

Temptations

_'__You messed up.'_

'You said it was a chick and her civil friend, not a cop and Bruce Lee…'

_'__What difference does it make?'_

'Five of my men arrested, three in the ER, that's what.'

_'__Send more.'_

'You'll be the one who has to send me something first.'

_'__How's five thousand?'_

'Make it 10.'

_'__Asshole.'_

'Pleasure doing business with you.'

Franklin never replied because of a timid knock on the door.

'Come in, Jefferson.'

xxxxx

The ringing mobile found Tara at the door of her house. She recognised the number and that brought a wide smile on her usually stone face.

'Hey, stranger!'

_'__Hello, gorgeous! Has the Niagara frozen yet?'_

'No idea.'

_'__Don't tell me you haven't been there by now.'_

'I'm so busy I haven't seen my own precinct yet.'

_'__So, it's really the 101__st__?'_

'Yes... Why are you giggling?'

_'__Oh, nothing… I… I've worked with… the detectives.'_

'And they were awesome and perfect and professional and bla bla?'

_'__Absolutely!'_

'Good. 'Cause so far I'm not terribly impressed.'

_'__Give them some time. Few people can rise to your impossible expectations.'_

'You can.'

_'__Me and…?'_

'Never mind. So, when are you coming? I want to hear everything!'

'I'll be there as soon as I can, two days tops. …Missed _you, partner.'_

'Me too, ol' man.'

_'__Hey, that was uncalled for.'_

'Look, I really need to go. I've got a giant folder and rolled stack of city plans waiting for me.'

'Getting into city planning?'

_'__No, getting into FBI operations.'_

'Oh… I'm sorry.'

_'__Tell me about it. My captain said it's one of_ _the side effects to police work.'_

'Do you think they're still mad at you for turning them down?'

'Honey, the CIA is still mad. Who cares about the FBI…'

_'__You're unbelievable.'_

'I know. …OK, shall we close?'

_'__Yes, better, they're expecting me for lunch.'_

'You're still in France then…'

_'__Where else would I be?'_

'God… I can't even express how happy I am for you.'

_'__Yeah… Took me months to get used to having a father. I still can't believe it, to be honest.'_

'At least one of us did it… That's amazing, just amazing.'

_'__Hey, hey, I don't mean to ruin your mood.'_

'Nonsense, I'm glad you called. The cold weather and the even colder house are getting to me.'

_'__Is it very big?'_

'Not very… It's just a big, bright house with a wonderful garden. It's suited for a family with many children, not… for me…'

_'__Just turn many lights on, or the TV, perhaps.'_

'Yeah, sure. I was actually considering moving to a hotel for a while. This place is a maze of boxes, suitcases and pieces of furniture. I'm sleeping on a couch in the sitting room.'

_'__You've no bed?'_

'Nah, it's dismantled. It's either wood planks that need to be cut, or my Daddy has wanted me to sleep in a king-size.'

_'__Yahoo.'_

'Yeah. Dealing with this is the last thing on my mind at the moment.'

_'__I understand. OK, I also need to go, big bro is throwing me deadly looks.'_

'Look at you, talking about big bros and stuff.'

_'__I know, can you believe it? Alright… See you soon.'_

'See you soon.'

_'__And, Tara, the Pol misses you.'_

'I'm not sure if I miss it, too, or I'm just being miserable. Bonne appetite, mon ami!'

_'__A bien tôt, machère!'_

xxxxx

'I'm sorry!'

Peter sighed and checked the view through the hospital window. The last memory he had was of a June rain, not February snow… Where did 8 months of his life go?

'Now what? How is it that I remember who I am?'

'Oh, that's just bad television,' smiled Dr Craig. 'In real life such cases are far more rare. Besides, the CT scan shows even less damage than I myself expected.'

'That's good, right?'

'Absolutely! You just have to rest and your body will do the hard work.'

'How long will it take?' interfered Harris.

'Hard to say, few weeks, a month…' Peter groaned. 'It's really not that bad, Mr Caine. In fact, I reckon your memory will be fully recovered before the swelling is actually gone.'

'I don't understand why it is I forgot just these last 8 months? Why do I remember clearly everything before that?'

'You see, brain is just as little known to us as is the Universe. I can give you many possibilities, but one option is self-preservation.'

'From what?'

'Well… It could be that whatever has happened over the past 8 months has been so traumatizing that your brain has put it in a buffer…'

'Like.. taking a break?'

'Yes, yes, pretty much. But as I said, that's just one option.'

'Great. So, am I going to remember everything day by day, or…?'

'No, no, it's going to be more like a puzzle. Different bits will start flashing through your brain and then you'll start linking preceding and following events.'

'Basically what you're telling me is that I'll have to relive whatever shit has happened to me over the past 8 months?'

'Well…'

'You shouldn't be so negative,' said Harris softly and elegantly tapped the branded forearm. 'There must have been also good things.'

Peter looked bored.

'If you knew of my life you wouldn't be so sure.'

'Then allow me to get to know about it,' purred the chocolate-haired detective.

Dr Craig knew when he was no more needed and prepared to leave. On his way out he casually let the patient know that little Mel was on her way to see him.

'Mel? You mean Melissa Winch?'

'Yeah… She's the reason why you're in Riverton.'

'God… What happened?'

Cop and doctor exchanged looks and Harris continued.

'Her foster family turned out to be not as decent as we thought.'

'Foster… Why the hell is my Mel in foster care? She has a grand… mother…'

'According to her file Mrs Winch died in December.'

Immediately Peter's hand landed on the throbbing forehead.

'No… No, dammit!' The hand hit the side of the bed. 'Sorry…'

After a sip of water and a check on his blood pressure Peter's face grew even darker.

'You see, that's what I'm talking about. And I'm pretty sure that's only the cherry on the cake.' He chuckled. 'That's just my luck… or curse, same difference.'

Voices from the hall informed them that the girl was already there.

'OK, guys…' Peter started sweating. 'Please, don't tell her I have amnesia, alright?'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, yes, I don't want to worry her. Please?'

'OK…'

The patient spent the rest five or ten minutes trying to convince the orphan that he was fine.

'In fact, I'm so healthy, they're discharging me as early as tomorrow.'

'Are they?' Mel's eyes glittered.

'Are we?' The doctor was puzzled.

'I can be pretty challenging patient,' winked Peter.

'So when can we leave? I had my last test at school today, I'm done here.'

'I'll… discuss it with the social worker…'

'Mrs Gerard?'

From behind Harris nodded energetically.

'Yes, yes, Mrs Gerard.'

'Can't you talk to her now? She's here…'

'I need rest now. I really want to get out of here tomorrow,' uttered Peter and tickled the little girl.

'OK, OK, but I can't wait.'

'Nor can I,' whispered Peter and patted the little shoulder.

Mel leaned to kiss her guardian when she spotted an item she hadn't seen before.

'What's this?'

'What?'

'On your neck?'

Puzzled, Peter touched his chest. His fingertips sensed an oddly shaped pendant. Bewildered he silently sought help from the doctor and the detective; both shook heads.

'Uhm…'

'Is it from China?'

'Uhm… yes, yes… China? Why China?'

'Well, since you were there…'

'I was? I was!'

After the latest discovery about the missing part of his life, Peter explored the pendant. It was tear-shaped.

'I know, the Yin and the Yang, that's it!'

'What?'

'Your pendant! You were telling us about it shortly before you left; you have the white half.'

'I…'

'Why do you have only one half? Was this a present?' Mel grinned. 'Like in the movies?'

Blushing, for his own sanity's sake, Peter concentrated on the little ornament. It emanated warmth and love; love, from the heart close to which it had been worn, and warmth, from the skilful hands that had made it.

But whose was the heart?

'Uhm, yes, honey, it's a present. And you're asking too many questions.'

'Ah, you're always so secretive.'

Just as the girl was about to start a rant on how her guardian never shared anything about his private life, after a brief knock the door opened. There stood a tall, blonde male nurse with a moustache.

'Oh… Sorry… I thought it was time for a change… Hehe, my bad. Sorry, guys... Doc…'

'Doctor Craig?' Peter's eyes couldn't leave the door off sight?'

'Yes?'

'Those pills you suggested… Is the offer still valid?'

'Of course, but…'

'Good, I'll take it. Detective?'

'I'm here?'

'Could you hang around for a bit longer?'

'Yes, sure.'

'Great. I'll need you to take me to the hotel.'

'Now?'

'Now!'

'And Doc…' Peter finally moved eyes from the door. 'You should tighten the hospital security; the man that just visited us was no nurse, he was an assassin.'

xxxxx

It promised to be a sleepless night in more than one houses.

Morris said good-bye to the last of the day-shift and armed with a cup of steaming coffee sat behind his messy desk. His pager was set to the highest; if a felony should happen during that night and get him the-hell-out-of-there, he didn't want to miss it.

Grunting he set to work on the workload of cases his new best friend, lieutenant Jahn, had dumped on him.

x

Jody came out of the shower shaking. Two aspirins later she was pouring steaming tea in the semi-lit living room; the lamp by the couch provided enough light for the lonely woman. She stretched for a thick photo album that was lying together with some magazines and sank into memories. The last entry was a photograph from 97'. Taken by a passer-by outside _The Rose Garden_ restaurant, it had three figures on it – her, a street artist, and Peter.

x

In another bathroom across town Bob Callahan just finished brushing his teeth. He rinsed his face and the tired blue eyes stared at their equally tired reflection.

'Do something, you idiot… or she'll never notice you…' he whispered and left.

x

Mary-Margaret was sipping wine by the window, the falling snow was her only companion tonight. She was just not in a mood for another evening of self-pity and Port with Jody. With legs leaning against the window sill, she had a piece of paper on her lap. _This_ was the only companion she needed right now. Though she knew it by heart, it brought her peace to read it over and over again.

_'… __One day happiness will knock on your door, Mary-Margaret, do not turn it down.'_

'When, Caine, when is happiness going to knock on my door?'

x

_Central France, early morning_

'You are up early.'

'I barely slept. Haven't seen my buddy in such a long time, so long that the last time we met I was this orphan with the wealthy relatives.'

'You… care about her, do you not?'

'Of course, Tara's like my little sister… I'd say daughter but I'm not _that_ old… I took her under my wing the very moment they brought her to the Pol.'

'You will have a lot to talk about…'

'For Heaven's sake, why don't you just come with me?'

'No! No… I cannot.'

'But you want to.'

'These are two different things. I cannot stop now, I am too close.'

'You were close six months ago…'

'I will not give up now, brother.'

'OK then… At least, do me a favour, make yourself some tea or whatever, just have some sleep.'

'Is it so obvious?'

'Well, judging by your pale face and swollen eyes, it's not difficult to guess you haven't seen much sleep tonight… nor the night before… nor…'

'Alright, I will. Actually… I was in a hurry… to finish something…'

'Don't worry about that, Damon will bring it. Besides, I'm already loaded with presents.'

'Do you have the…'

'It's right here in my inner pocket, don't worry.'

'Good.'

'Big brother… Your mind is here but your heart is across the ocean…'

'I… Do you want some tea?'

'Seriously, you're just like Father.'

'Where... are you going to stay when you arrive?'

'Heh, probably will end up knocking on strangers' doors… Just joking, I'll stay in a hotel, don't want to bother the neph.'

'Here is your tea.'

xxxxx

'Are you always that impulsive?'

Peter smiled.

'I'm trying not to be,' he said in a low voice and quietly closed the door of Mel's bedroom. He limped to the bed where a large file was waiting for him.

'That's a lot of data…'

'The file wasn't half as full before you came, most of this is your investigation.'

'In 2 days?'

'Less, actually.'

'Wow, I'm good.'

Harris took advantage and sat opposite her man-of-interest.

'What was this thing about dinner you mentioned earlier?'

'Oh, I mean it, but I'd rather keep it for a day when I can walk normally.'

'This may take a while.'

'Mmm, not if you're a Shaolin, actually.'

'What's the difference?'

Playfully he leaned and continued with fogy eyes.

'It's all about who's in charge – whether your body controls you, or you control your body.'

'And how good are you… in controlling your body, Mr Caine?'

'Right now I'm seriously failing…' he whispered.

And then they kissed. Peter quit trying to remember the last time he had kissed a woman. Was it Jody? Perhaps… But then again, with eight months missing from one's memory, anything is possible.

After their lips parted Joanna smiled.

'You know, you're different.'

'How?'

'You're somehow… more laid back, I can't see that seriousness, the coldness.'

'Seriousness?'

'Yeah… You're way more cheerful than before.' She smiled.

Silently Peter's stomach turned; 'not cheerful' as before, serious… Coldness? What had happened? Could it be that the events from the past half a year were so life-changing that his brain really chose to forget about them?

The ex-cop noted to speak with Dr Craig again. But now he had more pleasant occupation. It wasn't a lie that consciously he had been avoiding relationships, especially after the fiasco with Jody. After finding himself outside Sloanville, however, Peter felt that he didn't need to follow a certain code of behaviour, nor reach certain expectations; he felt absolutely free.

So why not take advantage? There were times when in the presence of such a woman he wouldn't even give it a second thought.

'Well…' He leaned close again. 'Let's take advantage of my good mood, then.'

The couple was about to kiss again when the Shaolin got tense; it was so sudden that his whole body strained.

'What's…?'

A finger against her lips was a signal for Harris to keep quiet. Peter pointed at the door and got up. With great effort he limped towards the door, his straight face not giving the slightest sign about how much pain he was actually in.

After reaching the wall he turned the lights off and listened. He signalled Harris that there was only one man outside; the detective moved closer and waited, her gun was ready to be fired.

As it turned out, she never had to use it. The lock clicked and a tall silhouette was about to enter. Harris never saw what really happened; she didn't actually hear anything happening. All she saw was the silhouette quietly sliding and remaining there, still and unconscious.

x

Some time later Harris's colleagues were on location, while Peter was fretting they might wake up Mel. The girl didn't hear a thing; she was sound asleep while the intruder was being taken away.

The detective in charge was a new addition to the Riverton station, the 28-year old Sandra Chu.

Detective Chu approached Peter.

'Mr Caine… I need to know that you confirm you've seen this man before.'

'That's right,' he said and with a slight groan got up from the chair he sought refuge to after a sudden wave of dizziness. 'Excuse me…' He took two pills, mentally kicked his butt for doing so, and continued. 'He came to my room this morning, he pretended to be a nurse.'

'In this case…'

Not a word of what Chu said reached the former cop. It was as if lightning struck him. Peter just stood there and stared at the eyes of the petite detective.

'Mr Caine?'

'I… Excuse me, have we met before?'

Interested, Harris listened.

'N-no, we haven't.'

'Are you sure?' Peter limped closer to the light. 'Look at me, please, please…'

'Uhm,' Harris interfered, 'Mr Caine has partial amnesia…'

'Oh… Well…' Mostly out of kindness, Chu pretended she was taking a closer look at Peter's face. She remarked on his beautiful features and mentally cursed Harris for being there before her. 'No, I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I would remember you.'

'Wish I could say the same thing.' Peter let the lady go but kept staring at her.

'Anything new?'

'I don't know… She… looked so familiar…'

'We know you've been in China, right? China is full of… you know…'

'Chinese?'

'…Yeah…'

'No… no, it's not her. I've seen those eyes before, but it's not her, she's not tall enough.'

'I'm sorry, what do you mean by that?'

'I've absolutely no idea.' For a while Peter got the cold expression again. He limped away with his cell in one hand.

Not particularly excited with the way her evening went, Harris got rid of the cops as fast as she could. When she returned to Peter she took the chance of seeing his back and unbuttoned her shirt.

'She should be there by noon. …Don't know, buddy, a couple of days… No, I'm fine, fine. …Look, Kermit, let's talk when I get back. …He-he, I'll try, I promise. Take care, OK? Bye.'

When he turned Harris completely forgot about her unbuttoned shirt.

'Did you just talk to… Kermit the Frog?'

'You can say so.'

He approached.

'Thank your people for me for being so quiet.'

'My pleasure,' answered Joanna in a husky voice. 'Speaking of pleasure… Where were we?'

But something about him had changed. He looked anxious.

'What's wrong? Are you in pain?'

'Oh, believe me, with the amount of pills I've had they can perform surgery on me and I won't feel it.' Peter stopped, his gaze met the dark-brown eyes opposite. 'Something happened tonight. I saw this flash and…'

'I see.'

'Look…' He pulled her lightly. 'There were times when I would have gone for this without thinking; I'd have probably done it tonight, too, just… Let's concentrate on the case, shall we? I need to get back as soon as possible.'

'I understand, no problem.' Trying not to look too disappointed Harris turned and nervously began fidgeting with her buttons.

'Are you sure?'

She was not.

On her way out she remembered something.

'Is our dinner thingy still on?'

'You bet.'

The door shut. Alone at last Peter let the pain creep to his face and with crooked expression dragged his bruised body to the bed. He couldn't possibly stand any other pain killer, not to mention the antibiotics.

Lights shut, Peter could finally centre himself, first time he did this in an unidentifiable amount of time. From the moment Dr Craig had told him that his memory would restore with time he was wondering if he could give it a little push with some Shaolin trick; if you could make people forget, you could certainly make them remember.

But first things first, with his sprained ankle he was next to useless. Peter took a deep breath, visualised it entering through his abdomen and leaving through his third eye; his heartbeat relaxed. He had few hours before dawn to make his ankle as good as new.

xxxxx

Tara was one of the first in from the morning shift. Her usually stern face made it impossible for her subordinates to think that its sombre expression is even remotely connected to nightmares and loneliness.

As the click of the computer indicated the beginning of the working day, she sank in her leather chair and began contemplating if there was any use of coming so early. There was – the precinct was always going to be a better place to be than her big, cold and empty house.

'Morning, sunshine!'

The surprise to find Kermit there so early was more than welcome.

'Morning, Captain! What are you doing here so early?'

'You know, kicking ass, keeping it safe… catching on the best fresh jelly doughnuts in town…'

Kermit grinned and placed a small paper bag on the desk of his new chief.

'There, now you're a proper American cop.'

'Thanks.'

'So, how are you finding it so far? I mean here, in 1-0-1.'

Tara was inserting her password to enter the system.

'Well… It's fun, like you promised, the people are cool, very little pressure… Yeah, totally, I like it.'

'Little pressure?'

'A former mercenary should know what I mean.'

'Oh, he does.' Kermit approached. 'I'm just glad you have something to do while Peter gets back.'

'I waited 8 months, Captain, I can wait few more days.'

'So.. uhm… How do you find our new filing system? I hope it's not too obsolete for an Interpol super-cop.'

'Actually… I'm quite pleased. It's so easy to check who is working for me and what they've been up to; I'm really impressed with Jody's cases, I want to try her with something more challenging.'

'Jody's one of our best.'

'I agree. No wonder she has impressed Peter…'

'What the… How did you know?'

Tara was typing with left hand, her right one was too busy holding a still warm doughnut. She didn't even look at him.

'You're underestimating me, Griffin.'

'What else have you figured about our hero?'

'Well, I'm pretty sure he's had a thing with Kelly, and I'm guessing it's been serious. Also with the redhead at dispatch… Linda, right?'

'It was just a brief flirt…'

'Yeah, I figured as much. However, he has never had a thing with Skalany.' Now Tara met Kermit's bewildered green shades. 'I don't get it, she's a very beautiful woman, good cop, too.'

'Oh, Mary-Margaret is…' He coughed. '…A whole other league…'

'Did I make you nervous?'

Kermit cleared his throat.

'Not at all. Actually, what I meant was if you've checked Peter's cases, his file.'

'I see… No, I haven't.' Tara felt odd, and besides it was too early in the morning to start explaining to him that she didn't even know Peter's family name.

'That's a shame. I can see that none of the gang has impressed you by now, I was hoping to earn us a red point with our hot shot.'

'He was good, wasn't he?' Tara sipped coffee.

Kermit's expression changed.

'He's the best cop this precinct has ever seen.'

The lieutenant smiled.

'I'm not surprised. And, to be honest, I'm quite tempted…'

'Why don't you just type his name and be amazed?'

'Because…. You see, down there we didn't exactly spend our time talking about each other…'

'I know, he told me.'

'He did?!'

'Yup. I still can't believe he never... you know…'

Tara grinned.

'What, made a move on me?'

'Yeah… It's not like him…'

'Oh, my, I feel so singled out.'

Loud voices from the reception interrupted the morning chat.

'I'd better go get this. You take your time, enjoy the doughnuts.'

'With pleasure,' smiled Tara. After Kermit left she stared at the computer; she suddenly wondered how the former mercenary managed to do any work with the green screen while wearing his ever-present green shades.

The voices got louder. Tara wanted to join, to go and help, but her captain had planted the curiosity seed; the temptation was just too much to bear.

There was no use to search family names, it could take hours. Tara skimmed through the list – there were more than 350 people on it. Fortunately Kermit had been proactive and the data base was searchable also by personal name. She typed 'Peter'; only nine men by that name had worked in the precinct.

She started from the top. Peter Andrews had worked in 101st in the late 80s, died in the line of duty during a hostage situation. Tara shook head and read further. Peter Benson was a cadet, this was his first year as a cop. With a soft smile she wished him good luck and moved further.

In life, sooner or later everyone finds himself in that situation, when they hear or see or… read something that makes time stop and mercilessly drains the blood off their faces.

Tara was facing one such moment _right now_.

There it was, the evil c-letter.

Caine!

Tara spun the chair and blankly stared through the window; she saw nothing, her mind was thousands of miles away from here. It flew back to China, where an American sailor baring the family name of Caine had fallen in love with a local girl, who also happened to be the heiress of an ancient lineage, going back to the first Shaolin temple and a monk named Kwai Chang, the first known Shaolin priest from the order of the Fighting monks.

Caine…

Her attention returned to the computer. A man with the same family name had been part of this precinct. _Caine, Peter_, joined June, 1984, resigned January, 1997. And then there's the mysterious man she meets at the other end of the world, Caucasian, former cop turned Shaolin, who has been part of this very same precinct.

Coincidence?

Tara gulped and pressed 'enter'. Tender feelings rushed to her heart when she recognised the face on the screen… All doubts forgot, she bravely read on, convinced this had to be a coincidence. Skipping the impressive list of awards, she found the birth certificate. And it happened again, this chill…

**Mother:** _Laura K. Caine_

**Father:** …. **Father:** …

She read it again. Then again. And a third time…

The young woman hid face behind two trembling hands. Realising she had fallen in love with the son of Kwai Chang Caine, now more than ever she wanted to be back in her village, cultivating herbs and looking after the community the way her mother had, away from the outside world, away from strangers, and finally, away from the one man in the whole wide world that family honour forbade her to be with.

'This can't be happening!'

XXX


	8. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

December 11, 1998

_'__Would you stop that?'_

_'__I'm trying to help…'_

_'__Well, I'm still alive and kicking, so get lost.'_

_Paul grunted and nervously pulled the tangled pullover. Leaning on the waiting wheelchair was his son, grinning with the funny sight that his father was… foster father that is…_

_'__You're a terrible patient.'_

_Paul shot him a mean look._

_'__Look who's talking…'_

_The two men chuckled. Suddenly left with an awkward pause, their eyes met; Paul couldn't help but notice the love beaming from the hazel eyes, tangibly mixed with remnants of the scare from three days ago._

_'__I'm sorry I didn't tell you,' said Paul while pulling his pants on._

_'__You were right not to. With the hell I was in down there, having also you on my mind would have been just a tad more than I could bear.'_

_'__Do you want to share?'_

_'__Not now.'_

_Suddenly realising it was his discharge day and Peter was the only one from his household present, Paul got suspicious._

_'__Say… You're really sure that none of the girls could come?_

_'__Well, Kelly had this job interview to prepare for, Carol was all busy with little Paul, Mom's sinusitis is inflamated… This, or I've come to pick you on the wrong date.'_

_'__Don't even think about it, I couldn't stand another day here.'_

_Before Peter had the chance to come with a witty answer, he stopped. Seconds later someone knocked on the door._

_'__May I come in?' _

_Simon Blaisdell had reluctantly agreed to visit his older brother after a rant from his wife. He didn't like finding Peter there. His hatred for the former orphan (yeah, like someone believed that, it was all a scam to drain his naïve brother off cash) grew even more when earlier this year the minx had been made Citizen of the Year'97. Can you imagine? Businessmen and important people who open working places and actually do something for society were neglected in favour of a rascal that collected other rascals from the streets where they belonged. Outrageous! _

_'__Hi, Paul! …Peter…'_

_Peter nodded and sought Paul's sign to kick the annoying element out of the room. However the sing never came, so the priest tactfully went out and gave the brothers some space. He didn't need special training to detect the overall mood of the conversation. _

_When Paul's voice echoed he smiled, Simon had never been able to stand up to his older brother. When a numb sound came from inside the room, however, Peter jumped._

_He found Simon lying on the ground in the vicinity of Paul and his tightened fist._

_'…__And remember, I've killed people for things far less important than insulting my family.' Having said that he stoutly sat in the wheel chair._

_'__We're out of here.'_

_Obediently Peter grabbed the brown bag with Paul's clothes and manoeuvred outside the room._

_'__Simon…' he nodded and left._

x

_Paul took notice of the unusual number of cars parked in the neighbourhood; the area around his hedge had never been so popular with drivers. He said nothing. Even when two minutes later Peter hugged him to ease his walking, he still said nothing._

_At last, at the door of the house where he had raised three children, he grinned._

_'__You didn't really think you'd fool me, did you?'_

_'__No, but I appreciate you playing along.'_

_'__Sure, why not.'_

_They entered. Paul did expect a surprise, what he didn't expect was to find half of 101__st__ in his living room. Everyone cheered when they saw their former captain standing with the support of his foster son. _

_Frank was the first to speak._

_'__We thought you've stood us up.' _

_Slowly Paul entered. After Frank, everyone joined in hugging and congratulating him. Quietly Peter stood aside and joined his sisters in pouring drinks. It occurred to him to try to speak to Jody again but she refused even to look at him and pretended to be busy talking to Blake. _

_'__Still no luck, ha?' asked Kermit, silently observing the party from a corner._

_'__Nope. It's lasting longer than I expected.'_

_'__Well, she still thinks you're the one.'_

_'__I doubt it,' uttered Petered and opened another box of orange juice. _

_Knowing that he'd be the last to go, Kermit didn't rush to hug or talk to Paul; he even considered staying the night. With the smile of someone who had witnessed the whole thing, he sat at the edge of the couch and spent the next hour listening to the story of how Peter's herbs saved Paul's live. He was pleasantly surprised when it turned out that everyone believed that Peter's healing skills had gone far enough for him to pull it on his own; no word of the Ancient or of where the herbs came from had been said. _

_x_

_The guests started leaving; Paul had felt extremely guilty that his city's safety was at risk just because his own health was so. _

_Peter was with Mary-Margaret, offering some advice after her most recent brake-up. He was finding it hard to concentrate, though, since he would much rather hear what Kermit and Karen were sharing with Jody. And of course he never left_ _Paul off his sight; his foster father was currently talking to Strenlich and Kelly. When Mary-Margaret went to top up her empty glass, Peter overheard Kelly's remark on a lovely Chinese vase standing by the fire-place. This was when it dawned on him that this afternoon was actually the first time ever Kelly visited the Blaisdell residence. Peter was drowning in shame._

_The phone rang. Paul made a sign that he was going to take it. His son followed every slight change in the older man's expression. That's why it was impossible to miss the dark cloud that briefly passed through the steel-blue eyes. However Paul plaid well; he closed and continued his conversation like nothing happened._

_A couple of hours later most of the guests were gone. While the former captain was enjoying the company of his women, Kermit was looking for Peter who had sought refuge in his room._

_'__Wow…'_

_'__What?'_

_'__As if it was yesterday when right over there posters of Dirty Harry and the Green Hornet graced these walls…'_

_'__Shut up.'_

_'__I knew they shouldn't give a badge to someone who thought Harry Callahan the coolest guy on earth.'_

_Peter was sitting in lotus on his old bed. He spoke with even voice._

_'__As far as I remember the coolest guy for me has always been my father.' Kermit halted. 'Dirty Harry came right after that.'_

_Captain Griffin knew when the fun was over._

_'__So, may I come in or what?'_

_The young priest finally looked at his friend._

_'__You're always welcome here,' he winked with a sneaky grin, vividly remembering himself as a confused teenager that only Paul's enigmatic friend with green shades seemed to understand. _

_Countless were the times when twelve years older Kermit had shared his knowledge on life with teenage Peter, in this very room, sitting on the edge of the bed with Peter by his side, absorbing every word, always with legs crossed in lotus._

_Kermit sat on the edge of the bed._

_'__I take it you're staying here tonight.'_

_'__Yeah.. I'll be around for a while, China Town is not that far.'_

_'__Good thing I sent Karen for your stuff, then.'_

_'__You did that?'_

_'__Of course.' Kermit sighed and took his glasses off; then he decided it was time to relax, so he simply nested on the pillows. 'I honestly thought that evening on the roof was going to be our 'farewell'. '_

_'__Me too, Kermi.' Peter smiled. 'But I'm really glad to be home. Thinking about that week…. down there… it's surreal.'_

_'__I know. And…' Kermit stood and took something out of his bag. '…In name of old times...'_

_'__Do you have to give me papers every time we meet?'_

_'__You see, if you had come home six months earlier, you'd have collected all of this in person.'_

_Peter remained silent._

_'__I was joking, Pete.'_

_'__I know. Anyway, what's that?'_

_'__The solution to some of your problems.'_

_'__Some?'_

_'__The material ones.' Kermit handed Peter a stack of papers. 'Here, the deed to a certain four-story building in China Town. Merry Christmas!'_

_'__What the…'_

_Peter read through the first page. Miraculously he had found himself the new owner of the Academy - no more rent, no more sleepless nights trying to figure where to find money._

_'__How?!'_

_'__Let's just say it is courtesy to a certain new friend of yours, you know, the one known for living in a big, white house…'_

_'__I don't believe this…'_

_'__You've obviously made an impression, kid, take advantage.'_

_'__I can't accept this, it's against…'_

_'__Peter!'_

_'__What?'_

_'__Are you planning to turn the building into a hotel?'_

_'__No…'_

_'__A casino?'_

_'__No!'_

_'__Then what's the prob?'_

_'__I…' _

_He checked the papers again. True, so much possession was against his order but with the new state of affairs he could finally concentrate on teaching and training, he was no good as a businessman. _

_'__Are we good?'_

_'__Yeah… Yeah, I think so.'_

_'__Great. Next…'_

_'__There's more?'_

_'__Let me see… Ah, there it is. 'With the present document the Municipality of Sloanville, NY, grants Peter Matthew Caine an indefinite concession over the Hobson Fire station, Chestnut St 34, Chinatown.''_

_Kermit handed over the document._

_'__This is a joke, right?'_

_'__Mmm, seems legit to me…'_

_'__So, what now?'_

_'__To save you some reading, you're basically in charge of the Youth Centre now, and whichever mayor takes over, they won't be able to take it from you. All you need to do is take care of the building.'_

_'__No more rent?'_

_'__Nope.'_

_'__Kermit…'_

_'__Uh-uh, it's on Uncle Sam.'_

_Peter slid fingers through his hair._

_'__Does Paul know about this?'_

_'__Of course, everybody does.'_

_'__So, no more rent troubles…'_

_'__Nope… You know, I expected you to look a bit more enthusiastic.'_

_'__No, I am, I am, just…'_

_'__Should I guess?'_

_Peter's voice got a certain rough note._

_'__I was just… hoping… that the more I postponed my return, the greater the chance…'_

_'__To find her here?'_

_A pair hazel eyes stared at Kermit; they were wet, agonising. Peter nodded._

_'__Oh, boy, you are into deep, aren't you?' Peter nodded again. 'She was a bit delayed, that's all.'_

_The hazel eyes grew bigger._

_'__The plan was to have her here before the Chinese New Year. Well, it will have to be after.'_

_Peter gulped._

_'__You mean… She's really coming?' His questions sounded more like a whisper._

_'__Of course she is! I keep my promises!' As his younger friend didn't look terribly convinced, Kermit continued. 'I probably shouldn't tell you this, but as it turns out, Tara has a small inheritance here.'_

_'__Where, in… Sloanville?!'_

_'__Aham.'_

_'__In this very city?'_

_'__That would be Sloanville, yeah…'_

_The priest got up and started pacing around the room. _

_'__How?..'_

_'__I want to say coincidence but I think we both agreed there's no such thing.'_

_'__Can you tell me a specific date? Maybe I could meet her at the airport…'_

_'__No, no… No! I don't have a specific date, and you are __**not**__ meeting her at the airport.'_

_In his typical frog fashion, Kermit knew more than he said. He simply estimated, and correctly so, that it was not the right moment to tell a man in love that the object of his feelings is actually taking a job here... Nor that this job was at 101__st__. _

_Peter grunted._

_'__You're annoying.' He sat. 'I was somehow afraid, you know. That… that she'd forget me…'_

_'__Have you checked a certain pendant hanging round your neck?'_

_The young man smiled and immediately touched the half-medallion. Then he kissed it._

_'__No…'_

_'__Peter!' He turned. 'Believe me, Tara hasn't forgotten you.'_

_x_

_While Kermit was bidding Peter 'good night' the rest of the Blaisdell household was having a bit of a situation._

_Carolyn McCall, Paul's older daughter, was nervously loading the dishwasher. The whole day she had successfully avoided her father's uncomfortable questions, right until now._

_'__Dad, seriously…'_

_'__I __**am**__ serious. Carol, this is your marriage we're talking about.'_

_'__Exactly! How can a complete stranger be of any help?'_

_'__Abe Bernstein is a renowned specialist, he's also a friend of mine. I would never put the future of your marriage in the hands of a stranger.'_

_'__Dad…'_

_'__Honey, it's just a talk. He'll be impartial, he'll listen to both of you. Please, please do this.'_

_'__This whole marriage consultancy thing sounds very suspicious.' She poured some wine and sat on a high chair. 'Besides, Peter already offered to help.'_

_'__Peter?!'_

_'__Yeah. He does that. And I know for a fact that he has helped many families.'_

_'__In Chinatown…'_

_'__Are families in Chinatown any different than families in other parts of the city?'_

_'__That's not what I meant. But with all respect he's not a specialist, he doesn't have the relevant education…'_

_'__Dad! After the holidays we'll do it, OK.'_

_Paul shook head and took something out of his pocket._

_'__Here is Abe's card.'_

_Reluctantly Carol took it. She did it just for the sake of pleasing her father, who she almost lost only few days ago. _

_The truth was that it was Todd who didn't want to see a shrink. His macho nature couldn't fathom the idea of sharing his most intimate secrets with a stranger. When Peter offered help he was all for it. The image of the arrogant cop from his wedding actually offering marriage advice was as ridiculous as it was hilarious. So Todd agreed, to please his wife and for a peace of his mind, he agreed._

_x_

_Some time later Kermit was preparing to leave. Little Christy had a mild fever and her parents decided it was inappropriate to leave her with the baby sitter._

_While Karen was in the kitchen with Annie, Kermit finally used the moment and pulled Paul in a darker corner of the dimply lit living room._

_'__Well?'_

_'__The same.'_

_'__The same voice?'_

_'__Yeah.'_

_'__Didn't you try to hold him longer?'_

_Paul was taken aback._

_'__Kermit, I have a tumour, I'm not retarded.'_

_'__I'm sorry. …Anyway, go have rest. I'm already working on this. Besides, as long as Peter is sticking around I'll sleep better.'_

_'__What do you mean?'_

_Kermit was ready to get into how no one could sneak anywhere near the property without Peter sensing him but it was too late, in any sense, to get into this argument again._

_'__You should trust your son a bit more, that's what I mean. We'll talk again.'_

_'__Sure.'_

_x_

_Peter was taking full advantage of the quiet house. Finally alone, he prepared a glass of warm milk with cinnamon and honey and headed for the sitting room. However a surprise ruined his plans._

_'__Hey, I didn't mean to…'_

_'__It's OK, Paul.' He was stunned at first but his sagacious mind quickly accepted that this conversation had to happen sooner or later. By this account now was as good a time as ever._

_A photo album with deep-red hard covers was lying open on the coffee table. Paul had been so devoured by its content that he completely forgot he was doing it without permission._

_Those little misunderstandings left aside, the former captain was too amazed to pay attention to anything outside the photo album. He just sat with weakened knees and stared._

_'__What… is this?'_

_Peter sat next to him and checked on the specific photo his foster-father was looking at._

_'__That… That's the family I should have had.'_

_Both men took a minute to contemplate. The picture was placed on its own, in the centre of a single page. On it was a gorgeous, young woman with straight red hair, very young, too. She was holding a toddler, not older than year, year and a half. The boy looked as happy as a child could; he had dark, wavy hair and was cuddling in his mother's arms. The two were safely protected in the arms of a tall, young man, perhaps in his early 30s. He had dark long hair, tied in a ponytail, and he was smiling, with a big, sweet smile Paul recognised on the spot. The man was proudly looking at his son while his wife was looking at her husband. They looked happy, so happy it seemed unreal._

_Desperately trying to break the awkward silence Paul asked the first thing that came to his mind._

_'__Where d-did you get this from?'_

_Peter sipped from his freshly topped up and way-too-full glass of cognac. _

_'__From my cousin.'_

_'__Say that again…'_

_'__I have a cousin,' Peter nodded. 'I've always had a cousin… Living few hours bus ride from where I grew up.'_

_'__And you find out now?!'_

_Peter grunted._

_'__Paul, until two years ago I didn't know I had an uncle… Well, two that is, but that's another story.' He drank again._

_'__May I?'_

_The older man leafed through and was immediately stunned by the image of baby Peter in the arms of… well, an older Peter…_

_'__What the…'_

_Peter smiled patronisingly and let his foster-father take a closer look. From the other end a man with dark-blond hair, big, hazel eyes and Peter's face was holding a toddler… with dark hair and the same big, hazel eyes._

_Several times the man looked either at Peter or the photo. _

_'__I'll be damned…'_

_'__That's my other grand-dad.'_

_'__Well, that explains a few things…'_

_'__He's been a great man, a war hero.'_

_'__Viet Nam?'_

_'__Second World War; saved hundreds of people from the camps.'_

_Paul whistled._

_'__Kid, you've got one hell of a DNA.'_

_'__Tell me about it.' Peter wanted to tell him he knew only half of the story but resisted._

_'__So what's his name? Did he live in San Francisco?'_

_'__I'm not going to tell you.'_

_The quick, sharp answered took Paul by surprise._

_'__Why not?'_

_'__Because I know you, you'll interfere, you'll try to find things.'_

_'__I won't if you don't want me to.'_

_'__I'd rather not take the risk.'_

_'__Peter… What has happened?'_

_The younger man left the glass._

_'__I came… where I am… alone. I learned… what I know… alone. I went to hell and back… alone. The things I found out are so many, and so horrific if true, that most people in my place would have given up on their sanity by now.'_

_Amazed Paul was staring into the hazel eyes he had known and loved for years, he was desperately looking for the impatient, arrogant cop he left behind almost four years ago. _

_He never found him._

_'__I am exactly where I need to be… and I will keep going… and searching. Alone.'_

_The older man shrugged._

_'__It's the Caine way, isn't it?'_

_'__It's the Shaolin way. I am Shaolin, Paul.'_

_The former captain nodded and looked down. He genuinely had no power for this conversation tonight but the truth was, he had no power for accepting the truth._

_Paul gulped and kept skimming through the album. The young woman from the faded photo Peter always had in his wallet was present at most of the pictures, always smiling, always holding a baby in her arms… or being held in her husband's arms._

_Many times the former captain had wondered what Kwai Chang Caine must have been like as young. Now he knew. The man's remarkable physical shape was evident even through the simple shirt. In many of the pictures he appeared with folded sleeves, and in none of them did he have brands on his forearms._

_'__I don't understand… How could he?'_

_'__Paul…'_

_'__Why?...'_

_'__Paul, please.'_

_'__How could he leave again? And when you needed him the most…'_

_'__Paul, enough!' hissed Pete and pulled the album._

_'__I'm sorry…'_

_'__When I said that this time he had a reason I meant it. Don't you believe me?'_

_'__Peter… you want to defend your father, that'd normal.'_

_'__I'm not defending him, I'm merely stating facts.'_

_'__OK. What reason?'_

_Quickly Peter weighed his possibilities. Paul's health was not getting any better, regardless of the miracle at the hospital. In that moment he honestly couldn't tell whether his two fathers will manage to meet each other again._

_The younger man got up and checked the staircase._

_'__Is Mom asleep?'_

_'__Yes…?'_

_Soundlessly Peter went up, taking two stairs at a time. Paul took the time to check the album further and he could swear he never realised when Peter came back._

_'__Jesus…'_

_'__Sorry.'_

_'__A cancer patient dies of heart attack, imagine the irony.'_

_'__I'll try to make more noise,' whispered Peter and took a deep breath._

_'__Well? What is it that you don't want your mother to know?'_

_'__My mother… Paul… There's a chance that my… __**mother**__… may be alive.'_

**END OF EPISODE 3**

He


End file.
